Stingers
by Archer969
Summary: When Buffy dives off the tower to close Glory's portal at the end of season 5 she ends up somewhere else, minor femslash.
1. Chapter 1: May

Disclaimer 1: The characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. All I do is write about my imaginings for them.

Disclaimer 2: There is minor femslash toward the end of the story.

* * *

It was a cool morning as I walked through the orchard but I could feel the bite of the sun just clearing the hills to the east, it would be hot later in the day. I decided I would make it a short day pruning the trees and head in and do maintenance on some of the equipment in the barn when it got to be scorching.

As I walked along I pondered what I was going to do. I was still trying to come to terms with the death of my parents in a car crash two months before, my life was in turmoil. I was not going to be able to continue handling the entire ranch by myself; I would at least have to get some help for the summer. School would be out soon - maybe I could get a couple of teenagers to help me through the summer for a share of the harvest. But in the long run I didn't know if I even wanted to try to keep the ranch.

Financially I was okay for now, but I didn't know how long that would last or if I could make a go of it working the ranch, over forty acres of prime orange groves along with nearly eighty acres in hay fields. Mom had always kept a small truck garden for veggies but I had never been interested in gardening and had abandoned it. I was working the ranch but I knew it could chew up a lot of money very fast and the only way to replenish it would be to get in a harvest. What if I tried and I didn't get a decent harvest, or prices crashed, or any of a dozen different things that could go wrong did; then I'd be out of everything.

Then there was the issue of did I even want to remain a rancher? I had completed a year and a half, three semesters, up at Stanford before my parent's death. But the devastation that had created within me combined with all the hassles of dealing with the funeral, the will, and all the other stuff had forced me to drop out. I wanted to go back to school but didn't know how, or if, I could and still run the ranch, and hiring a ranch manager would take any potential profit right away from me. After estate taxes and probate I had the ranch and a little cash but the cash wasn't nearly enough to pay for college. I could sell the ranch, but it was agonizing thinking of selling it, my home for as long as I could remember, and even now with the economy improving the market for orange ranches was still not the greatest.

I continued to contemplate possible futures as I walked back to the far orchard, the one remaining area where I had yet to complete the spring pruning. I knew I was running late in the season, another reason to get some summer help, to catch up on the things that I was letting slide.

Something odd was intruding itself on my conscience and I came out of my thoughts and looked ahead of me, a lump was lying on the ground between the trees a hundred feet in front of me, what on earth was that? I approached slowly and saw the tan shape move slightly and realized it was a person lying curled on their side, facing away from me. What the hell was a tramp doing sleeping in my orchard? As I got closer I realized it wasn't a tramp, or even a hobo, the clothes were too fine; then I realized it was a young woman. She moved again, raising herself slowly on her arms, she shook her head and then stopped and let out a low groan. Her back was to me and all I could see was a slim woman with blond hair in tan slacks and a light top.

I stopped about ten feet from her, "Miss? Are you all right?"

She snapped around, her body contorting awkwardly and she let out a louder groan, her eyes met mine briefly before she collapsed back to the ground. I ran over and squatted down next to her, I put down the pruning pole and rucksack I was carrying and gently took her shoulder and rolled her over onto her back. She was a pretty girl, about my age I would guess, although strain was starting to age her face. She opened her eyes and looked up at me.

"Are you okay?" She tried to say something and her voice just croaked, she nodded her head weakly, "Here, let me help you up."

I took her shoulder and helped her up until she was upright; she drew her legs in until she was sitting cross legged and seemed stable, "Want some water?"

She nodded and a rasped out, "Yes, thanks."

I dug into my rucksack and brought out one of the two mason jars I'd filled and brought with me, I knew it would be thirsty work out in the orchard. I unscrewed the cap and held the heavy jar out to her, she brought a hand up to grip it but I could see it shaking so I kept hold of the jar as she brought it to her lips and took several long drinks. I started to pull it away but she held it in place and took a third drink, she was becoming steadier by the second and was almost supporting the jar on her own when she released it back to me, her voice was much clearer and steadier, "Thanks, I needed that."

"Are you hurt?"

She sat for a moment, evidently taking stock of herself, "Other than feeling like I've been run over by a semi I don't think so."

"Semi?" I asked, unsure of what she meant.

She looked at me quizzically for a moment, "Truck, really big truck."

It was a strange term but I nodded in agreement; she looked around her, taking in her surroundings. Then she started looking around frantically and she exclaimed, "What the fuck?!"

I was shocked by her language but tried to overlook it, "Miss! What's the matter?"

"Where the hell am I?"

I was startled and blurted, "In my orange grove!"

"Where!"

"Outside Sunnydale, California; Miss, are you sure you're okay?"

She seemed dazed as she looked around, I suspected by thoughts running through her head, "I sure don't recognize this."

She struggled to her feet and continued looking around, "Miss, who are you?"

Distractedly she answered me, "Buffy Summers."

I picked up the pruning poll and my rucksack and stood up and watched her as she looked carefully around and then circled around slowly as if checking for danger. She seemed to be loosening up quickly as she moved around, her movements lost the painful slowness they originally had. Finally she turned her attention back to me, "Who are you?"

"Barbara Thompson, owner of this land."

"And where are we, exactly?"

"About two miles from Sunnydale, at least what there is of it, it's not much of a town."

She looked at me, startled, "No fucking way!"

Again her language put me off but I kept my tongue, "Where are you from?"

"Sunnydale."

I looked at her closely, I didn't recognize her but then I'd spent most of the last couple of years at college or out on the ranch, "Moved here recently?"

"Not too, about five years ago."

I was sure she was about my age and I knew she hadn't been in high school with me or any of the classes around mine, "Where did you go to school?"

"Sunnydale High, graduated two years ago and I got a year in the University before I had to drop out."

I knew she wasn't in my class; there were only forty-two of us, what on earth was going on? I stepped back, putting some distance between us. She was smaller than me, shorter by a couple of inches and at least twenty pounds lighter and I was in pretty good shape but she made me nervous. I brought the pruning poll down between us, the pole was an eight food wooden shaft with a foot long and very sharp saw blade attached to one end, I didn't point it at her but kept it between us.

She looked at me, startled by my actions, and then her eyes grew wary, "What are you doing?"

"Why are you lying?"

"Lying? I'm not lying! What makes you think I'm lying?"

"I know you didn't graduate from Sunnydale High two years ago!"

"What!? I sure as hell did!"

"I graduated two years ago, I know everyone that was in the class of '39 and you certainly were not!"

Her eyes went round with shock and she stared at me, finally she spoke, her voice cracking, "Class of '39?"

"Yes! So who are you?"

She didn't answer, she just stared at me. Finally she asked, "What's the date today?"

"May 23rd, why?"

"The year!?"

I looked at her quizzically, "The year? It's 1941, of course."

Her head tilted back and she stared up at the sky for several moments before she started screaming at the top of her lungs, "MOTHER FUCKING SHIT EATING ASSHOLES! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO ME NOW! SO HELP ME GOD I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEADS OFF AND SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR THROATS THE NEXT TIME I GET MY HANDS ON YOU! GOD DAMN IT TO HELL! …"

The swearing and cursing continued as she hopped around, her rage increasing the more she swore. I backed off further, deciding this was someone that I wasn't going to try to deal with by myself. I got clear of her and turned and started jogging back to the ranch house, I'd have to get the truck and go and find the sheriff but I didn't figure she'd get too far. And if she did disappear, well it wasn't my concern anyway. She must be a mental patient somewhere I thought, they're probably looking for her already.

I realized the screaming had stopped but before I could turn around to see what she was doing I was slammed to the ground. I tried to turn over but she was holding me down, she was a lot stronger than she appeared to be, I was struggling as hard as I could and couldn't throw her off of me. Then she twisted my arm strangely and pain shot through my body, freezing me in place.

"Stop fighting me!" Her voice came to my ear, softly and without a trace of the rage or madness I'd been hearing moments before, "I won't hurt you!"

I relaxed and the pressure on my arm eased and the pain stopped, I gasped in relief, "If I let you go will you talk to me? Just for awhile, answer some questions?"

I spit the dirt from my mouth and managed to croak out, "You won't kill me?"

"No!" The pressure eased off of me almost completely, "I'm sorry I freaked out, but I won't hurt you, I just need some answers! Please?"

After a moment I reluctantly said, "Okay."

She got off of me and I slowly go to my feet, she was standing a couple feet from me with my rucksack in her hand and the half-full Mason jar in the other hand, she held it out to me, "Sorry."

I took the jar and unscrewed the cap. I took a swig of water and rinsed out my mouth, spitting the water and dirt out and then took a drink. I handed the jar back to her and brushed some of the dirt and dust off of me, "What is with you?"

"I'm sorry! Please, can we just talk for a little? Then I'll leave you."

I thought for a moment, she seemed in control of herself now, "Why did you freak out?"

She looked at me for a moment and then shook her head no, "This is really Sunnydale, California?"

I nodded, "Technically we're outside of it, but it's the closest town."

"And it's May 23rd, 1941?"

"Yes"

Her face seemed to crumple and tears formed in her eyes and then started spilling over and running down her cheeks. She settled down to the ground until she was seated cross-legged, her head bowed, sobs racking her body. She didn't look dangerous anymore; she looked like a young woman in the throes of grief. I came over and knelt beside her, cautiously I put a hand on her shoulder. After a few moments she collapsed against me, I took her in my arms as she sobbed her heart out.

After about five minutes she stopped crying, she pulled away from me and angrily rubbed her tear streaked face with her forearms. I pulled a bandana out of my back pocket and handed it to her, "Here, use this."

She took it and wiped her face, then looked up at me and grinned weakly, "I must be a dreadful mess."

I looked at her; her face was dusty and tear streaked, her hair was a mess and her clothes, although nice, were covered in dust and smudged with dirt. "Well, not ready for going to town."

"Oh, god! What the hell am I going to do?"

I thought back and came up with her name, "Buffy, what's wrong?"

She looked at me for several minutes, seeming to evaluate me, "Promise you won't freak?"

"Hey!" I tried giving her a grin, "I'm not the one that freaked! Remember?"

She continued to look at me and then nodded, she held out her hand to me, almost a fist but the fingers were not tightly clenched; I looked at it and saw there we as ring on the finger, a class ring similar to the one I had sitting back on my dresser. I looked back at her but she just looked at me steadily and kept her arm motionless, I looked back down at the ring. Then I took her hand in mine and brought it closer, it was similar to mine, the stone was different and the form slightly different but it still said 'Sunnydale High School' around it. And then I saw the year etched in the metal ring, '1999'. "What the hell!?"

"I did graduate from Sunnydale High, two years ago."

"That's impossible!"

"I wish to fuck it was!"

"What are you saying?!"

"Yesterday, when I woke up, it was May 22nd, 2001."

I stared at her, she couldn't be telling the truth! She just couldn't! Could she? As the thoughts swirled around my head she reached into her back pocket and brought out a slim packet of papers, she held them out to me. I took them from her hand; there were a couple of bills wrapped around a glossy white card. I unwrapped them slowly, the bills were two twenty dollar bills, but strange, they didn't look quite right. I examined them closer, one was dated 1999, the other 2001.

I looked at the card; it was glossy white, covered by some strange clear material. A color picture of Buffy looked out at me from it. Across the top was 'California Driver's License' along with some other printing. Beside her picture was 'Buffy Anne Summers', and then her address '1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, Ca, 93129'

I stared at her, then back to the driver's license and bills and then back to her, "How…"

"Fucking PTBs screwing me again!"

Despite her language I couldn't help repeating it, "Fucking PTBs screwing you? What does that mean?"

"The 'Powers That Be', they're the ones that try to keep the balance between good and evil, but they also seem to have a penchant for screwing me!"

I didn't know what to make of this girl, as impossible as it seems I thought she really was from the future. Buy how could she really be from the future? And how could I know she was telling me the truth? Suddenly I thought the biggest thing looming in the future could be answered, "Buffy! Do we get involved in the war in Europe? Who wins?"

She looked at me, startled, but before she could say anything a voice interrupted, "Ah, now, Buffy! There are a couple of rules!"

I looked up to see a strangely dressed man leaning against an Orange tree not five feet from us; I knew he hadn't been there sixty seconds before. Buffy sprang to her feet with a yell, "Whistler!"

He held up his hands, "Hold on Buffy! I'm just the messenger!"

I could see Buffy restrain herself, "Whistler – you better be quick!"

"Ah, okay, first, those were a mistake." His hand pointed toward me and seemed to curl in on itself and I felt a slight tugging and looked down and the two bills and the driver's license turned to dust and fell to the ground. I rubbed my fingers together but there was nothing there anymore.

I looked back up to see Buffy had taken a step closer and was glaring malevolently at the man she called Whistler. He looked calmly back at her, "You can't change anything by telling people what you know, they won't believe you and you'll just end up locked away, you don't want that do you?"

"So what the fuck am I supposed to do, save the world on my own again?"

"That's up to you, your duty as the Slayer is complete. Live your life Buffy, you've earned it!"

"In 1941?!"

Whistler shrugged, "Well, about that, you couldn't stay in your world; this is far enough removed that nothing from it will affect you. But it's close enough that you're not a fish completely out of water. So, yeah, have a good life, Buffy."

She stared at him for several minutes, I kept looking between the two of them, finally I decided to try a question of my own, "Who are you?"

Startled he looked over at me, he considered me for a moment, "I'm Whistler, I'm a balance demon but right now I'm acting more as a messenger for the PTBs."

"Buffy's from the future?"

"Yes."

I thought for a moment, "And what did she do to deserve something like this?"

Again he contemplated me for several seconds before replying, "She was the Slayer, she's saved the world at least five times, and this last time she did it by sacrificing herself in place of her younger sister. She's more than earned it."

"Slayer?"

"Get her to explain it to you, if she will."

Buffy seemed to be coming back to awareness, "I'm not the Slayer anymore?"

"You don't have the duty, but they aren't taking away your powers. You can use them as you feel fit."

"What about the hell-mouth?"

"It's not open here, at this time."

"Vampires? Demons?"

"They're around, but they're keeping a pretty low profile now. Other evil is running rampant these days. Unless you go looking for them you probably won't run into them."

"Angel?"

"Don't mess with him, he has his own destiny."

I thought of something, "How is she supposed to fit in? She wasn't here five minutes and I knew something was wrong, what's her history, who is she?"

Whistler reached in to his jacket and pulled out a thick manila envelope and tossed it to Buffy, "This will help you fit in to this world, don't worry about it being checked, it will stand up to any check humans can do. It's your history for this world but you'll never actually meet anyone who would have known you. Read it and learn it and then destroy it, keep the documents and cash, they'll help you get started in this world."

Buffy stared at him in shock and then he disappeared.

I stared at the empty space where he had stood, I turned to Buffy, she was staring where Whistler had been standing. Finally I came to my senses, enough to realize that I wasn't going to be working in the orchard today, "Buffy?"

Slowly she turned to me, "Huh, what?"

"Come on, let's go back to the house, we have a lot of talking to do."

7


	2. Chapter 2: Introduction

We walked slowly, not talking, I could tell she was lost in her thoughts and questions were popping into my mind so fast I couldn't keep track of them. Vampires? Demons? What the hell was a Slayer? Was she really from the future? I decided to accept that one, there didn't seem to be any other explanation. Balance demons? Powers That Be? As we neared the house I decided I had two choices, I could accept all this or I could go turn myself in and have them ship me off to the funny farm.

I looked over at the slim girl walking beside me, her head hanging down, lost in thought, "Buffy?"

She looked up, startled, "What?"

"Can I touch you?"

She stared at me in shock, then squeaked, "What?!"

"Can I touch your arm?"

She started to redden, embarrassed for some reason I couldn't fathom, "Uh, why?"

"Just to see if you're real or if I'm insane."

She giggled a little at that and then stuck out her arm, I reached over and put my hand on it, it was warm and the skin was soft to the touch but I could feel solid muscle under it. I pulled my hand back and nodded in front of us, "Welcome to my home."

She looked up at the house, a small two story house with several large horse chestnut trees in the front yard and the dirt road leading to Sunnydale passing in front. A good size fenced off plot was on the west side of the house, my Mom's garden gone to weeds now. We were crossing the back area, between the barns and the house, heading for the back porch. She followed me up onto the porch and I opened the screen door and lead her into the kitchen that ran across the rear of the house.

I pointed to the table on one side, "Why don't you have a seat while I get some coffee going."

Her face lit up a little at that, "Chocolate mocha?"

What the hell was 'chocolate mocha'? "Uh, I think I've got some baking chocolate in the pantry, so I guess I could make some hot chocolate if you'd prefer?"

"No, chocolate mocha coffee, don't you…" her voice trailed off and she started to redden, "Oh, sorry, didn't think."

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, well, Starbucks popped up all over during the 90s and flavored coffees became all the rage."

"Starbucks?"

"A chain of coffee shops."

"A chain of coffee shops?"

"Uh, yeah," she looked at me for a moment, "Look, I'm probably going to say things that sound really strange for a while, just try to bear with me?"

"You mean like 'semis', and 'vampires', and 'demons'?"

"Yeah, well some. The vampires and demons, why don't we just forget about them."

"And that you are a Slayer?"

"Yeah, that too."

"I don't think so. I think I want to know what the hell a 'Slayer' is and how you go about saving the world."

Buffy looked up at me for several moments and then seemed to resign herself, "Get the coffee."

I busied myself getting the coffee pot set up and going on the stove, once I had it heating I grabbed a plate and a knife and walked over to the table, "I imagine you're hungry, want something to tide you over?"

Buffy looked up at me and then nodded, "Yeah, I could use something."

I set the knife and plate in front of her and then went over to the bread bin and got out some biscuits I had left over from dinner and grabbed the butter dish and took them back to her.

She looked at the food and then up at me, "Thanks."

She took a biscuit and slathered a liberal amount of butter over it and started eating, I went back and stood by the stove waiting for the coffee to boil. I leaned against the counter and watched Buffy as she ate the biscuits. I thought about her sudden appearance in my life, maybe there was something about the PTBs as she called them, I had been praying for something to change my life. Maybe they had listened to me. I was lost in my thoughts when Buffy's voice interrupted me, "You going to stare at me forever?"

With a start I realized I had been staring at her while the thoughts had been swirling around my head, she had turned and was looking at me over her shoulder. "Sorry, just thinking."

"About how I'm about to ruin your life?"

"No! More about how you're going to change my life."

"As little as possible, I'll be out of your hair as quick as I can."

"I think Whistler was a little optimistic, I don't think you'll be ready to fit into this world anytime soon."

She snorted, "I can adapt."

"If you don't get yourself thrown into the loony bin before the day is over."

"Hey!"

"Hey what?"

"Why would I get thrown in the loony bin?"

"Because you use crazy language? Because you don't act like you should? Want me to keep listing the reasons?"

"I'll manage to get by. Besides, even if they did I don't think they'd be able to keep me for very long."

"Why not?"

She looked at me for a moment, "Let's just say that not all aspects of being a Slayer were bad."

"And what does that mean?"

Again she looked at me and then shrugged just a bit, then she reached over and took the edge of the table in her hand and lifted it off of the floor about five inches and held it there for several seconds before gently setting it back down. I know my jaw dropped as I stared at her in amazement, that old wooden table had to weigh over a hundred pounds, while I could lift it myself I certainly could not lift it one handed from the edge! "I can also run very fast."

"You really want to live your life on the run?"

That seemed to sober her some, she gazed at me steadily, "I don't want to ruin your life. I've done that enough already."

"Why don't we talk and then I'll decide what I want to do?"

She looked at me for a moment, "Barb?"

I nodded my head.

"You really don't want to be involved with me, bad things happen to the people close to me."

"Buffy, let me decide on my own. Besides, didn't Whistler tell you to live your own life now, that you weren't the 'Slayer' anymore?"

She nodded and her eyes seemed to glaze over as she went to her own thoughts. I turned and checked the coffee, the pot was boiling merrily. I watched it, giving it and Buffy a couple of minutes to perk and then pulled it off the stove and poured a couple of cups. I turned down the heat but left it high enough to keep it hot, then carried the mugs over to the table and took a seat at the end of the table. I reached over and set one of the mugs in front of her.

After another minute or two she came out of her reverie, she was looking at me speculatively as she picked up the cup and took a sip, "GAAH! What is that?"

I looked at her, "Coffee."

"Yuck! Have you at least got some cream? And sugar, lots of sugar?"

I went over to the refrigerator and got out a jug of cream and grabbed the sugar bowl off the counter and set them down in front of her before taking my seat again. I watched in amazement as she turned the perfectly good coffee into light brown sugary syrup. She took another sip, "Well, at least its drinkable."

I took a sip of my coffee, "That's debatable."

She scowled at me and then cleared her features, "How long do you think it will take you to teach me to get along in your world?"

I shrugged, "I've got no idea."

"Come on, you have to have some idea?"

"How? What do you know? What do you not know? How do we go about figuring out what you need to know? You want me to keep listing the unknowns?"

She shook her head, "Shit! What the hell am I going to do?"

"Well, the first thing you might do is clean up your language."

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

"So what's a Slayer?"

She looked at me for a moment, then her voice seemed to take a different tone, almost as if she was mimicking someone else, "Into each generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a chosen one, one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil."

I looked at her in shock, "You really want me to believe that?"

"You don't have a problem believing that I'm from the future but you have a problem with that?"

I thought about it and then shrugged, "Yeah, well the one is just a concept, the other… Are there really vampires?"

"Yes, and demons, and most demons are not nearly as nice as that asshole Whistler."

"Language!"

"Oops, sorry."

"What did he mean when he said you sacrificed yourself in place of your sister to save the world?"

She thought for a moment, "Well, my friends and I have been fighting this hell god, Glory, for the last nine months."

"I thought you fought vampires?"

"Well, the job description has gotten broadened. Now the Slayer fights all kinds of evil."

"So what's a hell god?"

"A god of hell?" she shrugged her shoulders, "she's a very powerful ruler in hell, much stronger than I am. But her co-rulers got fed up with her because she's really crazy and threw her out of her hell and into our world. She wanted back in and the only way she could do that was to open a portal between our world and hers, and if she did that then all the monsters in her hell would be able to roam our world. She needed a key to open the portal and we figured out early on that my sister, Dawn, was the key. Also, she's not really my sister, the key is a mystical being and some monks created Dawn as a human but she's also the key. And then they put the memories in our heads that she was my sister. Anyway, Glory finally figured out Dawn was the key so she kidnapped her and they were going through the ceremony to open the portal with Dawn's blood when we got there. I had the troll hammer and with that I was finally able to beat Glory but her minions had already started to sacrifice Dawn up on this tower and I went up and got her but her blood had already started to open the portal. Monsters were beginning to come through it and I had to close the portal. I couldn't think of anything else so I jumped into the portal to close it. I have the same blood as Dawn, she is my sister even if the monks did make her, so I thought it might have a chance of working... since I'm here I guess it did."

I shook my head in disbelief, trying to parse all she had said, "What?"

She started, then thought for a moment, "God, I sounded like Willow in full babble mode, didn't I?"

"I have no idea who Willow is or what 'babble mode' means, so I can't really say."

She looked chagrinned, "Sorry."

I thought I had an idea of what she had tried to convey and thought about it for a few seconds, then shook my head again, "You expect me to believe that?"

She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her drink, I wouldn't call it coffee anymore, "You asked."

"So what happened next?"

"I woke up in your orchard."

"Oh," What was I going to make of her and her stories? And then I thought of her lifting the table, and the man, demon, whatever Whistler was, appearing and disappearing. And making those strange papers she had shown me disappear. Then I thought of that envelop he had given her, "Have you looked at what Whistler gave you?"

She started and then looked at the thick envelop sitting on the table next to her, she shook her head, "No, I haven't gotten the nerve."

"Well, why don't we take a look?"

She picked up the manila envelope and used the knife to carefully slit the top, then upended it and slid the contents out. Three stacks of bills slid out, each about an inch thick, along with several documents, I could see a US Passport, well used, and a couple other things, one looked like a birth certificate, the others I could not tell what they were. She reached into the envelope and drew out a couple sheets of typed paper. She looked at them for a moment, "This looks like my new life story."

"Well, why don't you read it?"

She nodded; then looked at the stacks of money for a moment before sliding them toward me, "Would you count that?"

I looked at the stacks of currency, a paper band held each of them together in a tight bundle. Each stack was topped by a different denomination, 20s, 50s and 100s. Each bundle was a mixture of new and used bills. I took the $100 bundle and thumbed the end, as far as I could see all of the bills were hundreds, I opened the stack and started counting.

I finished counting the money and sat back, Jesus! Well, at least she wouldn't have to worry about money for a long time, if ever. There were 200 bills of each denomination, $34,000 dollars total. I watched as she finished reading the typed pages, "Well, sounds like it would have been an interesting life."

"What is it?"

She looked at me for a moment and then handed the sheets to me, I read through the pages as she sat across from me, lost in her thoughts. She was twenty, four months younger than I, and born in LA. Her parents had taken her with them when they went to China as missionaries when she was five; it listed several Chinese villages with unpronounceable names where she had lived as she grew up. It said she spoke and wrote fluent Chinese, "Do you know Chinese?"

"No…" A light seemed to come on in her eyes, and a series of strange sounds come out of her, there was a sing-song quality to the words. She shook her head as if trying to clear it, "I… Well, I guess I do, although I didn't before. I took some Spanish in high school but I was never very good at it, certainly not like this…"

She was lost in her thoughts again, exploring the new knowledge I imagined, so I returned to the papers. She had come back to the US, along with her parents, twice for visits while she was growing up, both for three months but the last time was seven years ago. Her parents had sent her back to the states because of the escalating war between the Japanese and Chinese; she had arrived three days ago in LA. I read through the rest of it but it just fleshed out her life in China.

I sat back until she came back from her thoughts, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah, just getting a handle on this Chinese, they also planted the memories; that must have just been the trigger."

"Planted the memories?"

"I can remember living in China, the sights, the sounds, the smells," she screwed up her nose at that, "and I remember the events. But I know they aren't real memories, I can feel the difference between them and my life in Sunnydale."

"This may make it easier for you."

"How?"

"There aren't many people that know a lot about China so they won't question your background. At the same time you can explain a lot of your ignorance about life here because you haven't lived here."

She nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can get out of your hair real quick. Maybe you can help me get some clothes and stuff and I'll leave this afternoon."

"Buffy, you're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"I don't want to mess up your life!"

"My life is messed up already; maybe you'll help me straighten it out. How can you tell?"

We talked, and argued, the rest of the day, hardly moving from the kitchen. I was drawn to this young woman. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was, and then I found it. She had that charismatic quality of some leaders, you wanted to help her, support her, because you knew she would do everything she could for you.

5


	3. Chapter 3: Jenny

The early morning sun was lighting the kitchen as I sipped my coffee, I contemplated the work for the day as the bacon sizzled in the pan. I heard Buffy's light footsteps as she came down the stairs and into the kitchen, "Morning, sleepy head."

She gave me a half-hearted glare as she headed for the stove and poured herself a cup of coffee, she wasn't a morning person, especially fifteen minutes after dawn, but she was adjusting to ranch life. She sipped her coffee and wrinkled her nose, but she didn't head for the fridge to get the cream she used to use to dilute it, another adjustment. She sat in her chair, after a month on the ranch she could lay claim to it, and added a couple spoonfuls of sugar and took another sip, "And what labors have you got scheduled for me this morning, oh great and glorious task master?"

I got up and went and checked the bacon, I flipped it and checked the hash browns and flipped them also, "Many arduous tasks, lowly peon."

Buffy snorted in response; then giggled a little, "For real?"

The bacon and hash browns were almost done so I could start on the eggs, "For now you can handle the toast."

She got up to do the toast while I took the bacon out of the large fry pan and added it to the pan with the hash browns and turned down the burner under them, leaving it on just enough to keep them warm. I dumped most of the grease from the bacon into the grease can on the back of the stove and then poured in the dozen eggs I'd already shelled and whipped.

A couple minutes later we sat down to the table and started our breakfast. I thought about what we had to do today, which wasn't much. In the past month Buffy and I had caught up on all the things I had started to let slide, the ranch was as squared away as it had ever been. She didn't know anything about ranch work but she was a quick leaner and almost tireless, she could certainly work me into the ground.

I finished my current mouthful, "We really don't have much; can you handle walking the property by yourself?"

"Yeah, I can do that," she said around a forkful of egg. Every second or third day I, now we, walked the ranch to check for any problems, fix small stuff before it got big and note anything that needed more than could be handled with the simple tool kit we took with us.

"I've got some maintenance stuff to finish up in the barn. Then I thought we'd knock off early and get cleaned up and go into town, there are some supplies we need to get and then we can have dinner at the café and go to a movie or the dance; it is Saturday."

She grinned at me, "Sounds like a plan, though I'm not sure about the dance."

"Buffy, you need to learn how to dance."

"I know how to dance! That's not dancing!"

I snorted at that, Buffy had two styles of dancing, either she was gyrating wildly like some dervish or she was clinging to you much too closely. I had started to teach her some dances but we hadn't gotten very far, after a long day working on the ranch we, or at least I, didn't have a whole lot of energy. Now that we were caught up we'd have more time and I could teach her to dance. "Okay, then a movie."

She nodded happily and returned to her breakfast. I was nearly finished with mine when she spoke again, "Barb, what's in the other barn?"

I looked at her and then followed her gaze out the window, the ranch barn was about 50 feet away and to the west of the house, it faced into the area behind the house so we were looking at its side and face. To the east a hundred yards away was the back of another large structure, it wasn't a barn but it could be mistaken for one. It sat alongside the grass field that ran the entire east side of the property, paralleling the road that ran up in the hills behind my land. It was over 2500 feet long and 150 feet wide, it looked like a hay field but that wasn't its real purpose.

I looked at the building and waited for the feelings to hit, but they didn't. I checked and there wasn't that aching, numbing sadness anymore. As I looked at the structure I started to feel the draw, the anticipation and excitement that I hadn't felt since my parents were killed. I was examining this new, well returned, feeling when Buffy spoke again, "Earth to Barb, Earth to Barb!"

"Huh, what?"

"You looked lost."

"Oh, sorry." But my mind was still focused on that building, and its contents.

"Barb!" I shook my head, finally focusing back on Buffy, "Are you okay?"

A grin came over my face, "Yeah, I think I am. Let's get our chores done and I'll show you."

Buffy cleaned up the breakfast dishes; that was our deal, I cooked and she cleaned. It worked much better that way. Her cooking skills were rudimentary at best, she could handle toast and boiling water, beyond that and it was anyone's guess what would go wrong but it was almost certain that something would. I sat and sipped my coffee and contemplated, I could feel the desire growing in me again after having been gone for so long.

I was just finishing the maintenance on the tractor when Buffy got back from her walk of the property and came into the barn and plopped down on a bale of hay, "Hey, Barb."

"Hay's for horses." I answered as I started picking up the tools I'd been using and putting them back in the tool kit. She stuck out her tongue at me but didn't say anything else so I asked her, "How'd it go?"

"Everything was fine except for two more broken strands of barbed wire on the back fence. I patched them but I think we ought to think about replacing that whole fence, the wire is rusting through."

"Yeah, I don't know where Dad got that wire from, it should last a lot longer than that. We'll see if they've got some good wire when we go into town today."

"And a couple posts, I checked them all and most are okay but a couple need to be replaced if we're going to replace the wire."

I nodded in agreement as I wiped my hands off on a rag, "So, you want to see what's in the ha… other building?"

Buffy hopped off the hay bale, "Yeah!"

We walked over to the far building and I pulled the key from my pocket and unlocked the padlock that secured the door; then pulled it open. I went through the door and into the gloom of the building, Buffy came through behind me and then stopped, "What the…"

She was staring at the gleaming silver form sitting on the other side of the large open area in front of us, I reached beside the door and flipped on the light switch and the shiny silver of the Beechcraft seemed to jump at us. She stared at it wide eyed, after a few moments she said, "Is that the kind of plane Amelia Earhart flew?"

"No, it's a Beechcraft Model 18, it's a lot smaller than the Lockheed Electra she flew, but it has similar lines."

"What is it doing here?"

"It's…" I paused, "It was our family plane."

"Your family plane?"

"I told you, Mom and Dad made the money to buy this ranch barnstorming in the twenties. They didn't give up flying because they wanted to; there just wasn't any money in it anymore. But we always had planes on the ranch, Dad picked up the Beech a couple years ago cheap when the company that owned it went bankrupt."

Buffy was staring at the Beech, her expression one of wonderment. I took her elbow and lead her to the other side of the hanger; she finally took her eyes off the Beech and turned to what was in front of us, "What's that?"

I smiled at the small biplane in front of us, "It's a Jenny."

"A jenny?"

"Technically a JN-4, but everyone calls them Jennys; not many around anymore. It was my Dad's first plane; he bought it right after the war."

"Does it still fly?"

"She! Yes, she still flies; at least she did a year ago the last time I took her up."

"You can fly?!"

"Of course I can fly! Why would I have a plane if I couldn't fly?"

"You own a plane?"

"Dad gave me the Jenny on my 14th birthday, the day I got my license," I choked for a moment and then continued, "I guess technically both planes are mine now."

Buffy wasn't paying much attention to me, "Can we go flying?"

I looked at the Jenny, "Yeah, with some work we can probably take her up."

"Let's get started!"

"Hold your horses, it's going to take some work… maybe a lot of work. I thought we were going into town this afternoon?"

"Please, Barb." Her eyes kept darting between me and the plane, "We can do that some other time."

I reviewed what I had been planning on getting when we were in town, and then I looked over at my Jenny. She hadn't been up since the end of last summer; it was probably going to take more than a little while to get her ready, if I even could. If mice or other rodents had gotten to her she might never fly again. I knew Dad would have kept her in good shape, but it had been over four months now and this was the first time I'd been in the hanger since they died. I wasn't sure what I'd find, and if there were problems I didn't know if I'd be able to fix them.

"Look, Buffy, she's been ignored for a long time. I have to do a lot of checking and maybe make some repairs before I'll take her up. I may not even be able to fix her if something really bad has happened."

"Well, let's start checking!"

"No, there are some things we do need in town, and we won't be able to get them tomorrow, it's Sunday. Can you handle the run into town?"

"Sure, I can do that."

"When you get back you can help me on the Jenny if I need help and if not then there is another even bigger job that has to be done before we can fly."

"I'll do it! Can I do it? Can you show me how?"

"You can do it; you just won't like it when I show it to you."

"Why? What is it?"

I walked over to the main doors, opposite the door we had come in, and released the latch; then I started to push the door to the side. It was resisting, the tracks needed cleaning, Buffy started helping and the door opened a couple of feet. "That's far enough, let's not force it and have it jump off the tracks."

Buffy eased up and I stepped outside, she followed along behind me and I saw where the weeds had grown around the track and were jamming the door, "Make it two jobs."

"What are they?"

"The lower tracks on the hanger doors need to be cleared so the doors will roll easily."

"I can do that!"

"And the runway has to be mowed," I pointed to the long strip of thigh high grass that ran along the edge of the property.

"All of that!"

"Yeah."

"That… that will take weeks!"

I looked at her, startled, "No, only three or four hours, maybe a little longer because it's gotten so high it will be harder to cut than usual."

"You must have a hell of a lawn mower! What is it, one of those tractor types?"

"We, you, use the hay mower, silly. Not a lawn mower!"

Buffy started to redden, "Oh, yeah, I guess that would make sense."

"Look, get these doors clear so they're working right. I'll start looking over the Jenny. Once you're done with the doors you can take the truck and go into town, I'll write up a shopping list while you work on the doors. Then, assuming nothing major is wrong with the Jenny, when you get back we'll get the mower attached to the tractor and I'll show you how to use it. Maybe by tomorrow we'll be able to go up."

"But we've got most of today left!"

"Yeah, well it will take most of today to get ready, more if we keep yapping."

"Yes, master!" but Buffy was grinning as she said it.

I went back inside and walked back to the Jenny, as I approached I noticed she was sitting funny. I looked closer and realized she wasn't on her wheels; I ducked down and looked closer. Dad had removed her wheels and she was setting on stands he had made out of iron pipe, the axle resting in notches in the top of the pipes. The pipes were standing upright in large washtubs, I crawled under the wing and looked in the nearest tub, there was still several inches of water in the bottom of the tub and the strong smell of rat poison. There were also several small rodent bodies floating in the water. I looked to the rear end of the plane and the tail skid was sitting on a similar contraption, raising it higher than normal and holding the Jenny in the strange position that had first attracted my attention.

Dad must have decided to protect her from rodents; maybe he had done it both years after I'd left for college since she wasn't being used. Maybe my worries about the condition she would be in were out of place. I started walking slowly around the plane, checking the fabric covering the wings and fuselage. Halfway through my walk the light in the hanger suddenly increased, I looked up and saw Buffy pushing the first door open, it appeared to be rolling easily on its tracks although there was an occasional squeal, I yelled over to her, "Oil the wheels!"

She stopped pushing and came over to me, "I'll go over to the barn to get the oil can, any tools you need?"

I shook my head and pointed to the workbench behind the Jenny, easily visible now that the door was letting in more light, "There's an oil can and some rags on the back of the bench; use that. You'll also want to oil the upper wheel trucks, see that ladders on either side of the doors?" I pointed to a wooden ladders going up the inside of hanger wall; they gave access to the upper storage areas on either side of the hanger.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded.

"If you go up them you'll find small doors near the top of the ladder, you can see them from the outside. Position the wheel trucks under them and you can oil them from there."

"Will do, boss ma'am."

"Keep calling me that and I'll go flying by myself, you can stay on the ground."

Buffy looked crestfallen, "Sorry, Barb…"

"Just kidding, but I would prefer if you didn't call me 'ma'am', makes me feel like an old lady."

"You aren't any older than I am!"

"Yeah, well you wouldn't be able to tell the way you run rings around me."

"Sorry, I'll…"

"No, Buffy," I interrupted, "Stay just as you are, you're fun to be around. Just stop calling me 'ma'am'."

"Yes, ma… Barb." She grinned as she headed for the work bench, I watched her as she walked away from me and was struck by how she was changing me. I hadn't thought I'd ever be able to come back into this hanger, it held too much of my parents. But now I was completely comfortable being here, even looking forward to flying again. I looked over at the Beech, and then nodded to myself, even her.

Twenty minutes later both hanger doors were open, I had watched Buffy push them open and close, they were rolling easily. I had finished the inspection of the Jenny; her doped fabric was in perfect shape, the paint job still bright and fresh under the thin layer of dust that had collected in the last couple of months. I was up on a step removing the aft cockpit cover so I could start checking the control wires and the inside areas of the plane that were accessible. Buffy came over, "Any help you need before I head into town?"

"Nope," I climbed down and got out the shopping list I had made before I started the inspection and handed it to her, "I wrote a note on there for Mr. Gibson to just put everything on my account, I'll settle with him later."

"You were going to do that the next time you went into town, remember?"

"Shit!" Some of Buffy's language had rubbed off on me, "I forgot about that! I'll have to go in with you and get some money…" Damn, it was Saturday; I wouldn't be able to get money from the bank! One of these days I would have to get into town and set up a checking account. "I guess I'll have to go with you and sweet talk him into waiting a little longer."

"Barb, I'll pay him, I've got all that cash and I've been freeloading off of you for a month now."

"You haven't been freeloading, Buffy! I've been keeping track, you've earned yourself quite a bit, maybe not much compared to your stash, but I won't be able to pay you until the harvest comes in."

"Pay me! What the hell would you pay me for?"

"Buffy, you've been doing the work of two or three ranch hands around here; of course I'm going to pay you."

"No, you're not!"

"Yes I am!"

She snorted but dropped that track, "I can still take some money and pay Mr. Gibson and get the supplies, we can settle up later."

I nodded, "Okay, I really shouldn't have let it go this long anyway. Thank-you, Buffy."

"Need anything else?"

I shook my head, "No, not that I know of."

"Okay, back in a little, Barb."

I watched her walk across the hanger and out the back door; then turned back to working on the Jenny. I heard the truck leave a little later and then return an hour or so after that. Buffy was back in the hanger twenty minutes later, "Barb, I'm baaaack!"

For some reason whenever she said that she stretched out the 'back', it seemed to humor her. "Yeah, I heard."

"Everything's been put away, need any help?"

"Not yet, let's get you going on the mower."

We walked over to the barn and I backed the tractor up to the mower. Buffy and I manhandled it until it was hitched to the tractor and then I connected the various control linkages. I drove it out into the yard and then had Buffy climb up on the tractor with me. She had driven the tractor a few times but never with the mower on it. I had her drive it out to the airstrip, practicing turning it and getting used to how the mower tracked the tractor.

Once we got to the field I had her lower the mower and start down the inner edge of the field toward the frontage road, "Keep it slow, let the mower do the work."

The tractor putted along leaving a swath of cut grass behind, she rounded the corner at the end of the runway and went across until we reached the far side and then turned again. When we were across from the hanger I had her stop, "Just like that, but keep an eye behind you, the tractor will go straight. Check in front for any obstructions but unless it's something big you probably won't see anything in the grass. Keep an eye on the mower; if anything jams it stop immediately!"

"Okay."

"Then come and get me, don't try to clear it on your own!"

"Yes, ma… Barb."

I nodded to her, "Have fun!"

"Yeah, right! Driving in circles!"

I grinned at her as I hopped off the tractor and walked back over to the hanger. I heard her start back up and as I got to the hanger I watched her driving the tractor slowly down the field. I had to get that girl a hat, her Slayer healing might keep her from burning but it wouldn't explain how she could drive that tractor all day in the sun.

I went into the hanger and looked around and spotted an old Stetson of my Mom's that was hanging on a nail by the work bench. I walked over and took the hat off the wall, I could remember when she wore it and it brought tears to my eyes. I wiped them away angrily and started to put the hat back on the wall, then shook my head; it was time to get past it. I took the hat with me and went back to working on the engine of the Jenny, keeping an ear out for Buffy. When I heard the tractor getting near the hanger I walked out and waved her down and gave her the hat, "What's this for?"

"Wear it!"

"I don't like…"

"Buffy, wear it, please? You can't ride out here in this sun all day without a hat or you'll get all kinds of questions if anyone sees you!"

"Okay, Barb, thanks."

I nodded and headed back to the hanger while she continued the slow circuits of the field. I had finished all the inspections and checks, everything was fine except for a cracked block one of the elevator control cables passed over and that had caused some fraying of the cable. I replaced the block and then ran a new cable, fortunately the old cable hadn't snapped so I was able to use it to draw the new cable through the run.

The only thing remaining was the engine, a quick inspection had revealed that Dad had set the engine up for long term storage, the oil level was way too high and there was oil in all the cylinders. All the spark plug wires had been removed along with the distributer cap and points. The carburetor was wrapped in an oily rag. I was setting up to drain the oil when I heard Buffy call out, "Barb!"

I realized I couldn't hear the tractor and as I looked out the door I could see her walking up the field toward the hanger. I got up and went to meet her, she stopped when she saw me coming and waited for me, when I came up I asked, "Something jammed the mower?"

"Yeah, a big branch, I don't know where the he… heck it could have come from."

I shook my head, "I know, it's amazing, they seem to come from nowhere. I think some of the trucks coming out of the hills with their loads of firewood lose a branch or two and then someone else comes along and throws it in our field to get it off the road."

We walked down the field to where the tractor was stopped, almost at the far end of the field of course. When we got close I could see the branch, an inch and a half in diameter, had jammed between one of the blades and the housing. I squatted down and looked closer, "Shit!"

"Language, Barb!"

"Yeah, well this is going to be a real bitch to clear! It's jammed in at least three places; we might have to take the whole blade assembly out to get it cleared."

"Isn't there an easier way?"

"Most of the time the jam is minor, you can free it by reversing the blades. But you have to be real careful; you can make a mess of the gears if something goes wrong." I looked at it closer; it was going to be a real pain, "No, this is too bad to risk that, we'll have to disassemble it to clear it. You must have really hit it."

"I'm sorry!"

"Hey! I'm not blaming you, these things happen! I jammed it one day and it took Dad two days to tear the thing down and put it back together. It was so bad he couldn't even get the mower back to the barn and had to do the work out in the field. I'll go back to the barn and get the tool kit."

"Barb, what would happen if we just broke the branch? It looks to me like it would come free."

"There's not enough room to get enough leverage to break a branch that size. Even if we could break off the section that's sticking out it doesn't do anything for the inner jam."

"I think I could do it."

I looked at her for a moment, "If you want to give it a try, go ahead."

Buffy lay down beside the jammed mower blade and wiggled around for several moments, working one slim arm in behind the blade. She twisted and stretched and I saw her small hand close around the branch behind the blade, then her other hand reached up and grabbed the section of the branch sticking out from the housing. She settled herself and then her muscles tensed and with a loud 'snap' the branch broke off where the blade had cut part of the way into it. Buffy did some more squirming and then pulled out and sat up, "I can't reach the rest of it, I need to be under the mower."

"Get clear," I said as I climbed up on the tractor, I checked behind to make sure she was off the mower and then double checked the power takeoff to the mower blades to insure it was disengaged; then I started the tractor. Once it was running I hit the lift control and raised the mower as high as it would go, about nine inches off the ground, and then shut the tractor down, "Think that's enough?"

Buffy nodded and started crawling under the mower, her voice was muffled but distinct, "Yeah, I can reach it now."

A few minutes and several 'snaps' later Buffy crawled out dragging pieces of the branch behind her. She got up and brushed herself off, "I think it's clear now."

I looked in where the jam had been and couldn't see anything that looked like it was jamming the blades anymore, "Stay clear."

I climbed back up on the tractor and started it up; once it was running smoothly I set the control lever to reverse the direction of the power take-off and eased the engagement gear in, the mower blades started spinning smoothly backwards. I disengaged the power take-off and set the control to normal and started the blades in the normal direction, they were running free. I disengaged the mower and dropped it back down to its cutting height. I got out of the seat and waved Buffy up as she came back from throwing the pieces of branch onto a brush pile off the end of the runway. She climbed back into the seat and I rode with her until we reached the hanger.

I tapped Buffy's shoulder and she stopped the tractor, "Buff, don't try that on your own, always come and get me before you try to clear a jam."

"Why?"

"If something goes wrong you might get hurt, you don't want to be lying injured out in the field waiting for someone to come along."

She looked at me skeptically for a moment, "What did you do before I came?"

"I was real careful."

She nodded, "Okay, but the same rule applies to you."

I smiled at her and nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

She stuck her tongue out at me as I hopped off the tractor and headed back to the hanger. A couple of hours later I was just finishing with the engine work when I heard the tractor pull up outside and shut down. The cylinders were all clear, the plugs cleaned and gapped, new oil and oil filter. I'd even made up new spark plug wires, I'd found the old ones but a couple looked like the insulation was starting to crack. I'd drained the fuel tank and replaced the fuel filter and refilled it with fresh gas. I'd cleaned the air filter and checked all the belts and I'd topped off the radiator with anti-freeze.

The only things remaining were to get her back on her wheels and do the final tune-up on the engine, if she needed it, when it was running. Buffy came into the hanger and sat down heavily on an old chair by the work bench, "Jesus! That is hot, boring work!"

I glanced over at her and then stared; she had undone her coveralls and tied the bib loosely around her waist low down on her hips, it was so low I was surprised I couldn't see the top of her bush. She had rolled the bottom of her t-shirt up until it was just under her breasts and tied a knot in it to hold the roll, which caused the material to stretch across her chest. She had completely sweated through the light t-shirt and had evidently taken her bra off because I could clearly see her breasts through the material.

She saw me staring at her and glanced down at herself, "Sort of looks like I was in a wet t-shirt contest, doesn't it?"

"Buffy!" I managed to squeak out.

"What?"

"You're practically nude!"

She started at my statement, "I'm not nude! I've got a hell of a lot more on than when I go to the beach."

I stared at her in amazement, "What do you wear at the beach?"

"Usually a regular bikini, although I've tried string bikinis a couple of times but they are more for showing off than actually doing anything, there isn't enough material to keep you covered if you're playing volleyball or Frisbee."

I shook my head, "You realize I only understood about every other word you just said."

She thought for a moment, "Well a bikini is a pretty standard two piece bathing suit, they come in different styles but basically they are like a bra and a panty, a small bra and a small panty."

Buffy stood up and untied the straps of the coverall and wriggled and it fell to her feet, I stared in shock, she had rolled the top of her panties down until they were just above the start of her bush, she had sweated through her panties along with everything else and I could see her clearly. "About like that, and then a string bikini doesn't have anything in back, just a thin strip that comes up between your ass cheeks, let's you get a good overall tan. And the bra's are even skimpier than those of a regular bikini, just enough to cover your nipple and areola."

"You actually wear something like that out in public?"

"Sure, oh you should be aware of the beach policies, an extreme string bikini wouldn't be appropriate at the more family friendly beaches, the same as wearing a one piece at a nude beach wouldn't be appropriate."

"Nude beach?!"

"Oh sure, some of the beaches are clothing optional."

I stared at her in shock, "And you've actually gone out in public without any clothes on at all?!"

"Ah, well, no. Mom wouldn't take me and I never got around to going to one, but I wanted to."

I couldn't think of what to say for several minutes, I just stared at her. After awhile she started to redden a little, "You know, you aren't supposed to stare quite so openly."

I turned red and tore my gaze away from her, "Oh, sorry."

When I looked back up she was pulling up her coveralls, she looked at me seriously, "Barb, I'm sorry… I didn't think…"

"Buffy, you can't do that in this time. But you can always talk to me, I might be shocked but I… I won't think you're bad because of it. It was a different time, there were different standards…"

"Yeah, there were."

"When you're out in the fields now you need to stay more covered."

"Okay, Barb." She pulled down her t-shirt and pulled the bib of the coveralls back up, slipping the straps over her shoulders, "But we're in the hanger now and I'm not putting that damn bra back on."

I nodded acceptance, "Okay, if you want your tits hanging to your feet by the time you're thirty that's up to you."

Buffy snorted, "That's an old wives tale! My Mom went for years without a bra and her tits were just fine!"

I shook my head, "Enough already."

"Okay."

"You showed up just at the right time, I could use some help."

"How's it going?"

"Everything is fine; Dad must have set her up for the winter last fall. A couple small things and I had to de-winterize the engine and give it a good going over, we'll find out how good a job I did when we try to start her. But first we have to get her back on her wheels."

Buffy seemed startled and then peered under the wings and saw the steel pipes holding her up, "Why is she off her wheels?"

"Dad took them off, they would probably just have gone flat, and they provided a path for the mice or rats to get into her. The washtubs were full of water and poison, kept the little vermin out of her."

"Yuck!"

"Well, it worked."

Buffy shuddered, "Still, those poor little mice…"

"There are plenty more of them where they came from. I wish I could figure out a way to do away with all of them. You wouldn't believe the amount of damage they cause around the ranch."

"Humph. Well, how do we get her back on her wheels?"

"Come on."

I walked over to where one end of a block and tackle was tied to a cleat on the wall; the other end was attached to a truck on track mounted on the underside of a heavy beam that spanned the hanger above our heads. There was some gear next to it on a couple of saw horses, I freed the block from the cleat and hooked it to the strong-back sitting on the sawhorse. The strong-back was a stout wood beam about four feet long with a 2x4 at either end, forming a tall 'H' with a thick waist. I attached the block to a lifting ring in the center of the beam. Beside the strong back where a couple of 2x10 planks with a rope attached to one end, I picked up one.

"Buffy, grab the other plank," she picked it up and followed me over to the Jenny, "you can put it down for now and give me a hand."

She set the plank down and came over, "What are we doing?"

"We have to position these under the lower wing so we can lift her, we'll use the ropes to hold them in place until while we hook up the strong-back."

"That thing you attached the ropes to?"

"Yeah, you'll see as we get her rigged, for now go to the aft edge of the wing."

Once Buffy was on the other side of the wing from me I slid the plank under the wing just outside of the landing carriage assembly. She grabbed the end as it came out from under the wing, "Now toss me the rope and hold the plank against the bottom of the wing."

She flipped me the rope that was attached to her end of the plank and I tied it to my end of the plank; then let it take the weight of the board. We repeated the operation on the other side so we had the two planks under the wing and sticking out far enough in front to clear the upper wing.

I went back to the strong-back and got two coiled ropes, I ran one rope through the eye on the end of one of the 2x4s, over the strong-back and through an eye on the top of it and then through the eye on the other end of the 2x4. Buffy had come over and was watching what I was doing, as I rigged the second rope on the other side I explained, "The main beam is the strong-back, these are spreaders, they'll keep the ropes clear of the Jenny as we lift her so they don't damage her."

Buffy looked at the arrangement for a moment and then back at the Jenny and then back to me, "So those free ends will attach to the planks we put under the wings?"

"Yes, then we can lift her." With about ten feet of rope hanging off either end of the spreaders I tied a simple figure 8 knot just outside of the eye at either end of the spreader to keep the rope from slipping out.

She looked skeptically at the rope running through the block and tackle, it was good ¾ inch Manila hemp, "Are you sure that's strong enough?"

"It's plenty strong enough."

I went back over to the side wall where the rope running through the block and tackle was tied off and started hauling in on it until the strong back lifted off the saw horses and rose into the air. Once it was higher than the Jenny's upper wing I pointed to a rope that formed a long loop, it ran from the front of the truck the block and tackle was mounted on to a block at the end of the track, then looped around to another block on the other end of the track and back to the back end of the truck. The middle of the loop was on a peg on the sidewall keeping the rope out of the way. I pointed to it, "Buffy, take that and use it to haul the truck over until it's centered over the Jenny."

She looked up at the arrangement and saw how it worked; I kept the strong-back clear of the Jenny as she hauled it over, once it was positioned correctly I told her, "Okay, now tie off that rope on those cleats over there; tie both ends so the truck can't move."

She had the truck secured in a minute and I was able to cleat the rope from the block and tackle, now that the truck couldn't move it held the strong-back suspended a couple of feet above the Jenny's upper wing. We went over to the Jenny and got the ropes hanging from the ends of the spreaders secured to the planks we had rigged under the wings. I looked over everything carefully; making sure none of the ropes would rub or pinch the Jenny's fragile structure.

Satisfied I went back to the rope coming from the block and tackle and hoisted the Jenny up until the landing carriage was clear of the pipes that had been holding her up. I secured the rope and turned to Buffy, "Move those pipes and washtubs while I get the wheels."

I walked over to the workbench where the wheels were sitting propped against it, as I got close to the bench I heard a loud, "YUCK!"

I turned around to see Buffy peering into the washtub she had dragged out from under the wing, "Just haul them over to the side, we'll deal with them later, I don't want to just dump all that poisoned water and the bodies outside."

Buffy looked up at me and stuck her tongue out, "You could at least have warned me! That's as bad as a Gnarfack's guts!"

"A what?"

"A Gnarfack, a kind of demon, those things are nasty and the only way to kill them is to slice open their guts and pull out the intestines."

"Talk about 'yuck', why would a couple of dead mice bother you?"

"Because they're cute when they aren't all slimy and… and dead!"

I just shook my head as I turned back to the workbench - Buffy was such a mass of contradictions. I grabbed the two wheels and rolled them to the plane. I'd checked them earlier and pumped the tires up to the proper pressure and then checked them again later, they were both holding their air. I leaned them against the undercarriage and then took the wrench out of my back pocket and loosened the nut on the wheel axle and spun it off.

I pulled off the washer and then rolled the first wheel in position, by the time I got it there Buffy was squatting down peering under the wing from the other side, "Want a hand?"

"Yeah, help me lift this thing and slide it on the axle, it's a little awkward under here."

Rather than waiting for me Buffy picked up the wheel and slid it on the axle, "Like that?"

I shook my head at her, "Damn showoff, but yes, just like that."

I put the nut and washer back on the end of the axle and tightened it down. Once secure I slid a cotter pin through the hole in the end of the axle to keep the nut from coming off and put the grease cap on to cover everything up. We repeated the process on the other side and then lowered the Jenny back onto her wheels.

I was freeing the lifting rig from her when Buffy spoke up, "Are we going to have to rig something different to lift the tail or can we just use this?"

"Neither," I said, "Come on."

I walked back to the tail with Buffy following along behind. Once there I reached under and grabbed the tail skid and then straightened up a little, lifting the skid off the steel pipe that had been supporting it. Then I walked the tail a little way around so it was clear of the pipe and set it down on the ground, "You can put that one with the other two."

"Jesus, you could have just told me to move it."

I nodded, "Yeah, but you have to be careful where you lift her, a lot of places aren't strong enough."

"Okay, just let me know what to watch out for."

I went back to getting the lifting gear cleared away and stowed back where it belonged. I looked outside and saw we still had a lot of daylight left; things had gone faster than I had expected. "Hey, Buffy."

"What?"

"We might actually have time to do some flying, want to give it a try?"

"YES!"

"Okay, first we've got to roll her outside, come on."

I showed her where to push on the back edge of the wing right next to the cockpit where there was solid wood under the doped cloth. I got on the other side and we pushed her out until she was clear of the hanger. I went back in and got one of the tie-down ropes from the wall of the hanger and grabbed a couple of blocks from the pile under it and took them back out. I tossed the blocks to Buffy and told her to put them in front of the wheels.

While she did that I snapped the clip at one end of the rope to a heavy iron ring that was bolted to the top of a concrete post sticking about six inches out of the ground, Dad had buried it years before to make handling the Jenny easier. I looped the rope through the tail skid and then back to the block where I pulled it so there was no slack left before tying it to the ring.

13


	4. Chapter 4: Flying

I climbed up on the wing of the Jenny and leaned into the aft cockpit and verified the magneto switch was off and the throttle and choke were all the way in, then hopped off the wing and walked around to the front of the plane, "Come on, Buffy. Let's see if we can start this thing."

She joined me at the front of the plane and I reached up and hooked my fingers around the prop near the tip and pulled it down, it swung most of the way around before coming to a stop, "Don't you have a starter for this thing?"

"Yeah, us. Look, when you pull a prop through you do not grab the prop; just hook your fingers around it. Also, don't pull down; if you slip then you're falling into the prop, pull to the side like this so if you slip you're falling away from the prop." I pulled the prop through again, this time getting a full revolution. I stepped clear, "You give it a try."

Buffy reached up, she could just get her fingers around it, and then she brought her arms down, she got one and a half revolutions, "Good girl! You're going to make starting easy, give it another one!"

She looked sideways at me but stepped up and grabbed the prop and gave it another hard pull. She looked up at the engine as the prop came to a stop, than at me, "It doesn't act like it's ever going to start."

"Oh, it can't start, the magneto is off."

"So were just doing this because we need the exercise?"

"No, we need to get it lubricated, get some oil throughout the engine, before we actually start. Give it another pull and that should do it."

Buffy reached up and gave the prop another pull and it spun around two times. I started around the wing, "Buffy, go around to the other side and get up on the wing, be careful where you step."

I got up on the wing and went forward to the front cockpit, Buffy was standing opposite me, "Are you sure you want to come flying with me?"

She looked at me with a big grin, "Oh, yeah!"

"Okay, some rules, that's the stick and that's the rudder bar, keep your hands and feet off of them." I said as I pointed out the controls, then I pointed to the switch on the instrument panel, "That's the magneto switch, if you turn it the engine stops."

"Okay, I'll leave that alone."

"Yes, please do. When you get in fasten the seat belt and leave it fastened! I don't care if you think it's uncomfortable…"

"Hey, I've got no problems with seat belts; I wish you had them in the truck!"

"In the truck?"

"Where, when, I grew up you had to wear a seatbelt when in a car, in fact they made it a law before I was driving. I've got no problems with wearing a seat belt."

"Good," I pointed to a tube that came up beside the seat and had a flexible end to it, "This is the speaking tube, when you get in adjust it so it's near your ear, you'll be able to hear me. Turn to it and speak into it, loudly, and I'll be able to hear you."

Buffy looked at the arrangement and nodded, "What are the instruments?"

I pointed to them as I identified them, "This is the compass, altimeter, and engine tachometer; the small ones are engine oil pressure and water temperature."

Buffy nodded, "Not much like the pictures I've seen of airplane cockpits, there were a lot more instruments."

"This is a pretty simple plane, about as simple as they come."

"Good, my speed," she said as she grinned at me.

I returned the smile, "Okay, let's get her started."

I verified the magneto switch in the forward cockpit was on and then went to the aft cockpit. I turned the switch on there and pulled out the throttle about half way and the choke all the way. Then hopped off the wing and went around to the front of the plane where Buffy was waiting for me. She started to reach for the prop, "Wait - let me do it this time."

"Why?"

"It's a little different when you're actually starting one of these things."

I reached up and hooked my fingers over the prop and gave it a sharp pull and moved clear at the same time, the prop turned and there was a loud bang and a puff of smoke as the prop jerked back. Buffy jumped back and exclaimed, "What the hell was that?!"

"That, my dear, was a back-fire."

"Jesus! That could take your arm off!"

"Yeah, that's why you keep your arm and the rest of your body clear."

I pulled the prop through again and this time got a couple of bangs and it rotated a couple of turns in the correct direction, I could smell raw gasoline so I went back to the cockpit and moved the choke in a couple of notches. I came back and gave the prop another turn, this time the bangs became continuous and the prop turned into a blur. Blue black smoke came pouring from the engine but cleared rapidly as the excess oil in the cylinders burned off. I ran around to the cockpit and eased off the choke and the engine smoothed out, then I slowly pulled the throttle out as the engine settled into a relatively smooth idle. I listened for a minute as the roar smoothed out as the engine warmed, it seemed I'd been lucky and had gotten the engine timing just right.

I hopped off the wing, Buffy had come around and was standing by the back of the wing, I yelled to her, "Just hang on for a minute!"

She nodded in understanding as I trotted back into the barn. I went over to the old tin trunk sitting on a shelf near the work bench and opened it up. I took out my leather flying jacket, helmet and goggles; I slipped on the jacket and then dug deeper into the trunk. I pulled out my old jacket, the one I had outgrown when I was sixteen and looked at it; it was still in good shape and I thought it would fit Buffy. I dug around some more and found another leather helmet and a pair of old goggles, one of the side lenses was cracked but when I pushed on the glass it was still firmly seated, it would be okay.

I took all the gear and walked back outside, Buffy was still standing beside the Jenny as I walked up and handed her the jacket, helmet and goggles. "Go ahead and put on the gear."

She looked at the heavy leather jacket in her hands and then up at me, "It's a little warm for this, isn't it?"

"It will be cool when we get up a couple thousand feet, trust me."

She nodded and pulled on the jacket while I slipped on my helmet and put the goggles around my head, for the moment leaving them up on my forehead. Buffy looked at me, "Quite the aviatrix, aren't you?"

I snorted, "Just put your stuff on."

It took her a moment to figure out the helmet and then she put it on and then put the goggles around her head, they were too loose and wouldn't stay in place. "Here, they need to be adjusted."

She handed them to me and I tightened the strap a little and gave them back to her, she put them on and they stayed, "They're not too tight are they?"

"No, they feel fine."

I buckled the chin strap on my helmet and Buffy copied me, "Once you get in the cockpit put the goggles on and keep them on, this engine puts out an oil mist and it will really mess up your eyes!"

She nodded in understanding and I waved her toward the plane. Buffy got up on the wing and started to get into the aft cockpit, I yelled at her, "No, Buffy, you're in the forward cockpit!"

She looked back at me and then pointed to the front cockpit and I nodded, she went up to it and got in. I reached into the aft cockpit and pulled the throttle out until the engine was just ticking over. I reached under the wing and pulled the block from in front of the wheel clear, then went to the other side and cleared that block. I went to the tie-down and untied the rope, keeping it in my hand I went to the tail of the Jenny and put my hand on her before I pulled the rope clear of the tail skid, I didn't want to risk her going off on her own with Buffy in her. With the throttle at idle she wouldn't move, but then again linkages have been known to break or Buffy might accidently hit the throttle.

Keeping my hand on the Jenny I climbed back up on the wing and got into the cockpit and strapped myself in, next time I would have Buffy release her while I was in the cockpit. I yelled in the speaking tube, "Ready?"

Buffy stuck her hand up and gave me a thumbs-up. I pulled my goggles down, I could see Buffy looking around, I yelled out again, "Buffy! Put on your goggles."

She looked back at me a little sheepishly; then pulled the goggles down over her eyes. I grinned at her and she went back to watching everything around her. I pushed in the throttle a little way, the engine roared and the prop blast blew in our faces and we started rolling toward the strip, I eased off the throttle just a bit, giving us just enough thrust to keep us moving slowly. I applied a little pressure to the right brake and we swung to the right, I taxied down the edge of the runway until we were near the end, then tapped the left break to swing us around 180 degrees.

Once we were lined up with the runway I eased the throttle forward and we started moving down the grass strip, bouncing a little over the ground. We accelerated quickly and I felt the controls start to come to life; I gave her another second and then eased the stick forward just a touch and felt the tail lift clear. I held her there as she accelerated and I could feel her get light on her wheels, I eased the stick back and we lifted off, not even halfway down the runway, and climbed quickly into the blue sky.

As we passed through a thousand feet I could feel the breeze blowing by us beginning to cool, I banked her lightly around and flew back over the ranch and on towards Sunnydale as we continued to climb. By the time we reached Sunnydale we were at three thousand feet and I leveled her off. I cruised around the town and then headed back toward the ranch. I could feel Buffy shifting around, upsetting the balance of the plane slightly as she leaned out one side and then the other. As we neared the ranch Buffy turned halfway around in her seat and yelled over her shoulder at me. I couldn't hear her over the roar of the engine and the whining of the wind through the struts and wires around us, I shook my head and pointed at the speaking tube. She turned to it and then I heard her voice coming out of the tube next to my ear, "We aren't going back already, are we?"

"You're okay?" I yelled back.

"Okay? This is great!"

"Okay!"

I eased the Jenny into a slightly steeper bank than I'd used before, turning her a little more than 180 degrees I angled back across the hanger far below us, I would use it as the central point while I practiced some easy maneuvers. I waited a couple more seconds and then banked in the opposite direction, again turning her a little more than 180 degrees. I continued making a figure '8' in the sky, each time banking a little harder in the turns, finally she was nearly in a 90 degree bank when I heard a faint yell from Buffy and saw her hands go above her head. I rolled her back until we were level and yelled in the speaking tube, "Sorry, got a little carried away with myself!"

"What are you sorry about, that was GREAT!" Why'd you stop?"

"I thought it was too much for you!"

Buffy turned in her seat and looked back at me, then turned her head to yell in the speaking tube, "Please, more!"

"Okay, but keep your hands inside the cockpit unless you want me to stop."

I saw her head nod as she settled back in her seat. I decided to try one of my easier acrobatic routines, see how she liked that. I banked back toward the ranch and as we passed over the hanger I put her in a hard bank, held it for a quarter turn and then banked further and pulled her into a thirty degree dive before rolling back to the horizontal and pulling up in loop. As I continued around I heard a faint yell from Buffy, "Yeeeeehaaaaaaa!"

I continued into a second loop but when we reached the apex I rolled her over and went into a slight dive to build up speed and then leveled off and made a large barrel roll. I kept her going for about fifteen minutes, looping, diving, and rolling but keeping the maneuvers as smooth and gentle as I could. Finally I put her in level flight; I was still worried a little about Buffy. She seemed to be taking to it like a natural but I didn't want to scare her. I called over the speaking tube, "How're you doing, Buffy?"

"I LOVE THIS! Will she do more?"

I thought for a moment then yelled back, "Do you want to try it?"

"Try what?"

"Flying!"

"You'd let me… I don't know how!"

"We'll do it together."

"Okay… what do you want me to do?"

"Can you put your feet on the rudder bar?"

I felt the bar move just a little and held it steady with my feet, "Barely!"

I felt the wind flowing by us, it really wasn't very chilly, "Are you warm enough?"

"Sure?!"

"Can you take off your jacket and put it behind you? We can't adjust the seat in the air."

I saw Buffy struggling for a minute and then she disappeared into the cockpit, a minute later she was back upright, her t-shirt fluttering in the wind. "I can reach it now!"

"Okay, put your feet on it and take the stick in your right hand and just feel the movement of the controls!"

I felt the slight resistance as she took hold of the stick, then I eased the Jenny into a bank and held her there until we were headed back toward the ranch, then leveled her out. "Buffy, did you feel how I did that?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, follow me through again!"

I flew several figure 8s with her following me on the controls then yelled to her, "Okay, this time you give it a try!"

"Okay," I could hear the hesitancy in her voice.

"Just be gentle, don't over control; take it nice and easy."

She eased the Jenny into a bank, a little steeper than we had been doing but then she eased the wing back down and held the turn until we were pointed back toward the hanger, then she leveled the wings. We'd ended up slightly nose up so we were climbing a little, "Ease the nose down so we stay at the same altitude."

She leveled the Jenny off and we flew across the hanger, "Okay, now bank her in the opposite direction!"

Buffy eased her into another bank and brought her out nice and smoothly. We continued practicing banking, increasing the steepness of the bank and cutting down the turning radius, for the next half hour. For the last ten minutes I had my hands and feet completely off the controls. The sun was getting close to the horizon; it was time to go home. I waited until she was flying level, "Buffy!"

"Yeah!"

"I'm coming back on the controls!"

She sounded startled, "What do you mean back?"

"You've been flying her by yourself for the last ten minutes!"

"I have?!"

"Yes, you have!"

"Oh, cool!"

"Keep on the controls and just follow what I'm doing; we have to go home now."

"Oh, shi… shoot!"

I grinned but didn't say anything; I brought the Jenny around and headed back for the field. I checked the wind sock; the wind was still coming out of the west. I flew east shedding altitude until we were past the end of the strip and then eased her around as we continued dropping toward the ground. I brought her over the frontage road and then we settled onto the grass strip, the tires hit with a slight jar and then the tail dropped onto the grass and we were slowing quickly as we bounced lightly across the grass. I let her roll almost to a stop before I tapped the brake to turn her around and gave her a little gas to keep her moving. We taxied back to the hanger, when we were almost to the door I held the left brake hard and popped the throttle, she swung around and I used the right brake to stop her turn as I flipped the magneto switch to kill the engine.

The sudden silence after over an hour of roaring engine and whistling wind was a relief. I unhooked my seat belt and climbed a little stiffly out of the cockpit and hopped down to the ground. I turned around as Buffy climbed out of the forward cockpit and walked down the wing and dropped to the ground, "Let's get her…"

Buffy jumped into me, her arms going around my neck and her legs around my hips, instinctively my arms went around her as I staggered, trying to stay on my feet. She was squeezing me as she spoke in my ear, "Oh, god! That was so great! Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you! When can we do it again! I love it! I LOVE IT!"

I held her, trying to breath as she squeezed me tight, I managed to gasp out, "Hey, Buff! I have to breath, girl!"

I felt her hold relax a little so I could breath but she remained clinging to me, she drew back so I could see her eyes and she looked into mine, "God! That was so incredible! We have to do it again, soon!"

She looked around, seeing that the sun was sinking behind the west hills, "In the morning! Please! Promise we can go up again in the morning!"

I grinned at her, "Okay, in the morn…"

She pulled herself against me, holding me so tight she cut off the words. I pounded her on the back until she eased her grip, "That is if you don't kill me first!"

She squeezed me one more time before she dropped to the ground, "Okay, what do we have to do to be ready to go back up?"

I shook my head; then remembered my enthusiasm when Dad first started to teach me to fly, "Get the tie-down rope and loop it through the tail skid, we'll use it to drag her back into the hanger. Once she's in the hanger you go get a couple cans of gas from the main tank while I check her over."

"Okay, Barb."

7


	5. Chapter 5: Lessons

By the time we got everything stowed and got back to the house it was full dark. As we walked into the kitchen I said, "Buffy, go take a bath, I'll get dinner going. Once you're done you can watch it while I take my bath."

"I don't need a bath, I'll help you."

"Buffy, go look in a mirror, you do need a bath!" Her face and hair was covered with oil and grime from the engine, on top of the dust and dirt she'd gotten mowing the field, "besides, you stink!"

"I don't stink!" She sniffed her nose, "well, maybe pleasantly aromatic."

I snorted, "I stink, and I wasn't in the front cockpit!"

We were both clean; the evening meal was just about gone as I watched her putting away the last of a huge helping of mashed potatoes. "Buffy?"

She swallowed the food in her mouth, "Yes?"

"Would like to learn to fly?"

Her eyes went round with shock; then a huge grin spread across her face, "Oh god! Yes! Where? When can I start? Who do I have to talk to?"

"Here, tomorrow, me."

It took her a moment to digest my answers, "You can teach me to fly?"

"What do you think we were doing this afternoon?"

Buffy looked embarrassed, "I know, but I thought you were just showing me… You can teach me for real?"

"I've got my instructor rating for single engine aircraft, so yes I can teach you. We'll have to go to the airport and get you some hours in a bigger plane, with radios; they won't let you do your flight test in the Jenny. Plus you have a bunch of book learning to do and you have to pass a written test before you can take the flight test. I've got the books and when you're ready we can set it up for you to take the test."

"Yes, please!" I got up and went over to the drawer where I'd stashed the blank log book earlier while Buffy had been taking her bath; I got it out and tossed it to her. "What's this?"

I tossed her a pen, "It's your pilot's log book, fill out the cover sheet and then you can log two entries."

She filled out her name and date of birth, well her new date of birth, then came to a stop, "What address…"

"Your home address," She looked at me wide eyed, "Flying T Ranch, Sunnydale, California."

I saw her gulp as she bent her head back over the log book as she filled out the information requested. She flipped to the next page and saw it was lined for making entries, "You said I should make two entries?"

"Yes, put today's date, the time was 1830 to 1930, pilot time was 0, the aircraft was a JN-4D, and in the remarks section put 'Orientation flight including acrobatics, B. Thompson pilot'."

She nodded as she wrote it down then looked up, "Second entry, date, time 1930 to 2000, pilot time ½ hour and circle it, same aircraft, remarks, "Dual instruction, basic flight control, B. Thompson instructor."

She finished making the log entries and stared down at the book for a few moments before looking up at me, "Uh, how much time… how long do you think it will take to teach me?"

I smiled at her, "You, not long. You're a good student. You have to have at least 20 hours of dual instruction and 35 hours total flight time before you can take the test for your private license. Then additional time and training if you want to get advanced certification."

"Huh?"

"You'll read all about it in your ground school work, don't worry."

"Barb, what license do you have?"

"I've got my private, instrument, commercial, and instructor certificates for single engine, and private and instrument for multi-engine. I was working on my multi-engine commercial and instructor certificates last summer; I was going to finish them this summer but…"

"But I side-tracked you?"

"No! I hadn't even thought, no – I couldn't think about flying since Mom and Dad died. I couldn't go in the hanger until today, too many memories…"

Buffy's face registered shock, "Barb! I didn't mean to…"

"Hush, you didn't. It was time, I was glad to be out there today."

She nodded to me and then went back to looking at the log book in front of her and out the window to the hanger, barely visible in the moonlight.

Buffy brought the Jenny down smoothly and gently, only the slightest bump as she touched the ground. As we slowed almost to a stop I yelled to her, "Take us to the hanger!"

She turned the plane and started taxiing back toward the hanger; she swung her head around so she could see me, "Already? We've only been flying for an hour!"

I yelled again, "Back to the hanger."

She gave me a sour expression and turned back forward. She taxied toward the hanger and then swung the Jenny around, the engine cut back as she chopped the throttle and I yelled at her, "Don't shut down!"

I unhooked my seat belt and climbed out of the cockpit and walked forward until I was beside her and crouched down so we could talk without yelling, "Okay, take her up, one circuit around the strip and then land, nothing else! Understand me young lady?"

Buffy looked at me wide eyed, "Alone?!"

"Yes, alone! Don't worry, you're ready!"

I got up and walked down the wing and hopped off and then walked over to the hanger, when I turned around Buffy was twisted in her seat looking at me. I waved at her, she still didn't move, so I shooed her away, finally she turned back in her seat and sat facing forward. She sat still for another minute and I began to worry, maybe it was a little too soon. She'd only been flying for three days, three and a half hours with the hour we had put in today, but she was a quick student, an incredibly gifted flyer as far as I was concerned.

The engine roared and then dropped back to just above idle as she got the Jenny moving and then turned down the runway. I watched her as she taxied to the end and turned around and came roaring back, lifting off just after she passed the hanger. She climbed away smoothly, going a little further than strictly necessary before turning around and coming back past. She flew out to the east and then turned back toward the runway and started settling smoothly back toward the ground.

I walked out to the edge of the landing strip so I could watch her all the way down; she brought the Jenny in nice and light, her landing as smooth as I could ask for. As she slowed down as she neared me I waved for her to go around again, she waved back with a question and I nodded, the engine roared again and she took off again. After half an hour of touch and goes I had her bring the Jenny back to the hanger, she shut her down and hopped out of the plane and came running toward me, "If you crush me I won't be able to teach you anymore!"

She slowed down but I could see she was bouncing with excitement; I held out my arms and hugged her as she stepped into them, she hugged back, careful to keep her Slayer strength under control. "Barb! That was so great! I've never felt so free!"

I nodded, "Let's put her in the hanger, we've still got a ranch to take care of."

"Aw, Barb!"

"If we get everything done we can go back up this evening, the days are long now. Besides, you can't do it too fast or you won't absorb it all."

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly.

We were approaching the Sunnydale Airpark; I let Buffy bring us in. She had flown in and out of here a couple of times so she knew the rules that an aircraft without a radio had to use when flying into a general aviation airport. She carefully entered the landing pattern and kept a sharp eye out for other aircraft, I kept looking around and verified there was nothing near us. She set us down gently and then steered us over to the taxiway, I pointed to a green hanger on the side of the field with a big Texaco sign on it.

When we were parked in front of the hanger I got out and then yelled up to her, "Shut her down and tie her down, I'll be out in a minute."

"What's going on Barb?"

"You'll see in a minute!"

In the two weeks since Buffy had started flying she had accumulated just under the required minimums for her license, she had 19 hours of dual instruction and 36 hours total. She was also a hell of a pilot; I had spent the last four days teaching her acrobatics just to log the hours. What she needed was time in a larger plane and experience using a radio. I went into the hanger and saw Paul was sitting at his desk in the small office at the side of the hanger, going over paperwork. I walked up and rapped on the door frame, without looking up he said, "Thompson, was that you and your damn washing machine making that racket out there?"

I blew him a raspberry but didn't say anything else, finally he looked up at me, "How you hanging in there kid?"

"I'm hanging."

I could see his eyes shone a little as he looked at me, "Hell of a thing, your parents I mean; didn't know if I'd ever see you around here again."

I nodded, "It took a while. But I'm baaaack."

He looked at me quizzically, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Sorry, I've got no idea, friend of mine says it that way all the time; she seems to get a kick out of it. I'm starting to pick up some bad habits from her."

"Humph," he leaned back in his chair, "so what can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's for her. I've been teaching her, she's about ready to take her private exam but all her time is in the Jenny. Could you take her up in the Staggerwing and check her out and give her the training she'll need on the radios?"

"All she's flown is the Jenny?"

"Yeah."

"That's a hell of a jump up to the Staggerwing."

"She can handle it; she's a hell of a pilot."

"Give me a minute to get this paperwork done and I'll be out."

"Thanks, Paul."

He nodded as he put his head back down. I walked out of the hanger and over to where Buffy was sitting on a bench off to the side, she was looking around at the different planes as I came walking up, "So, boss lady, what's the sitch?"

I shook my head, some of her slang was almost incomprehensible, but I'd learned 'sitch' was short for 'situation', "Friend of mine is going to take you up in his plane, check you out in something a little bigger and more powerful than the Jenny. Plus, it's got radios so you'll be able to practice your radio procedures."

"Where will we do that?"

"Oh, probably LA, it's the nearest decent sized airport."

"LAX?!" she screeched.

"What is LAX?"

Buffy reddened, "Oops!"

"Oops what?"

"Sorry, forgot, It's just that LAX is the main LA airport from… you know. It's huge, I don't even know if they allow private planes there anymore."

"Well, it's pretty busy now, but all kinds of planes are flying in and out of it."

"Okay, so what will I be in?"

I turned and pointed to a bright red biplane parked a little way away, it had an enclosed cockpit and unlike most biplanes the upper wing was further back than the lower wing. "That."

"Oh… my… god… the Staggerwing?"

"Yep," I saw Paul coming out of the hanger, "come on, let's go meet your instructor."

We walked over to meet Paul by the Staggerwing, "Paul, this is Buffy Summers, Buffy - Paul Tadowski."

Buffy held out her hand and he took it, they shook as he looked from her to me and back to her again, "How the hell did you get messed up with her?"

Buffy grinned at him, "Just lucky, I guess."

"Well, if you ever need rescuing…"

"Sorry, distressy damsel I'm not."

"What?"

Buffy reddened slightly, "Uh, well, I'm not the damsel in distress type."

"Oh… well, okay. You think you can handle the Staggerwing?"

"I think so; I'll give it a hell of a try, anyway."

I cringed a little at her language but Paul just laughed, "You're a spitfire, aren't you."

Buffy played dumb, "Spitfire! You've got a Spitfire! Let's use that!"

Paul was stunned for a moment and then started laughing, I laughed along with him. Buffy looked grim and waited, peering at him from under her eyebrows, when he finally stopped laughing she growled at him, "It's not nice to toy with me like that!"

"Sorry!" he said as he tried to suppress another laugh. "Come on, from a Jenny to a Spitfire? You'd kill yourself! Besides, I don't think there are any outside of England."

She snorted but didn't say anything more, Paul looked at her, "Think you can pre-flight her?"

"Yeah, everything but the engine checks, you'll have to show me where the access panels are."

He nodded, "Well, go ahead."

I followed along as Buffy checked the airplane over carefully; first going to the cockpit to make sure everything was off and then checking all the control surfaces, struts and exposed wires. When she came to the tie-downs connecting the wings to rings in the concrete she looked up at him and he nodded so she untied the ropes. When she was finished with everything but the engine he showed her where the access panels were and then watched as she checked the oil and water and inspected the engine itself. When she finished she turned to him, "Did I miss anything."

"Nope, looked good, now let's see if you can fly." Paul looked at me, "You coming along?"

"Nope, I'm going to go check out what Ray has in stock."

"He just got in a big shipment; he's stocked up pretty well right now."

"Okay, see you guys in…"

"Oh, give us a couple hours, we'll do some touch and goes here and then head for LA."

They got in the cockpit and I watched as he went over the instruments with her, after a couple of minutes the Staggerwing roared to life. They sat there for another minute or two while the engine warmed up and then they taxied toward the runway. I watched as they took off, circled around and did half a dozen touch-and-goes and then climbed away and headed south.

I walked over to Ray's hanger where he had a little store of pilot supplies in addition to the planes he rented and his courier business. As I was looking over the leather flying jackets he had I heard the distinctive sound of the Staggerwing, I stepped out the door and looked up and spotted the distinctive red plane, it was definitely Paul's. Why would they be coming back so soon?

I ran back to his hanger so I got there just as the Staggerwing came to a stop, Paul got out and I could tell he was mad, he came marching over to me and grabbed my arm and hauled me into the hanger. I caught a glimpse of Buffy getting out of the plane, she looked crest-fallen.

Once we were in the hanger Paul let go of me, I turned to him, "What the…"

"What the hell are you trying to pull Thompson?"

"Pull!? Me? What are you talking about?"

"Who the hell is that girl?"

"What do you mean? She's Buffy Summers, I've known her for a couple of months."

"I can't believe you are that gullible, it's got to be a set up!"

I was completely confused, "Paul, what the hell are you talking about?"

"How many hours does she have?"

"What? Just over 36."

"No way!"

"Yes! I took her up the first time, she didn't know anything!"

"She can't! She's got to have a couple hundred at least. Certainly not just 36! She was doing acrobatics!"

I started to redden, "Oh, well, sorry! She was just so good! I ran out of things to teach her and she needed more instruction time so I started to teach her some acrobatics."

"She doesn't even have her private ticket yet and you're teaching her acrobatics?!"

"Well, we had to do spins and she took to them like they were nothing. I mean the first time I put the Jenny into a spin she pulled her right out, I didn't even have to tell her what to do; she just did it."

"And you don't think she was just bringing you on?"

"No, Paul, she wasn't. I know she wasn't. So she's really as good as I thought."

"I don't know how good you thought she was but if what you're telling me is true she's the best I've ever seen."

I nodded my head as we walked back out of the hanger. Buffy was seated on the bench she'd been on earlier, but now she was hunched over with her face in her hands.

As we walked up she raised her head, I could see the tears streaking her face, "I'm so sorry, Barb! I swear, if you won't give up on me I'll try twice as hard. I know I'll eventually be able to learn how to do it right!"

I was stunned, "Buffy, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Why?"

"I tried to do what he asked, but I guess I wasn't any good because after the loop with the four point roll combination he took the controls and flew back here. He wouldn't even tell me what I had done wrong!"

At that point I couldn't hold it in any longer and I started laughing. Buffy's head dropped. I stepped up and took her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet and pulled her into a hug as I continued to chuckle. After a few moments she stiffened and pushed herself away from me enough to see my face, she had stopped crying and had a grim expression on her face. "For some reason I'm not seeing the humor in this situation!"

"Oh, god, Buffy!"

"WHAT!?"

"It's just that you looked so miserable!"

"And that's funny because?"

"Because… well because…" I realized that what I had found so funny really hadn't been to Buffy, "I'm sorry Buffy. It's just that Paul was pissed at me, well both you and me, because he thought you had to have a couple hundred hours to do what you were doing. You didn't do anything wrong!"

She looked at me and then over at Paul, "Miss, I'm sorry, but you've only ever flown the Jenny before today?"

"Yes," she said grimly.

"I find… I find that difficult to believe, I've seen pilots with thousands of hours that weren't as smooth and precise as you were flying the Staggerwing."

"Well, I can't do anything about that!"

Paul looked at her for several moments, "Okay, we'll try this again. You want to fly to LA, Buffy?"

"Yeah, but you have to give me a couple minutes."

"What for?"

"I'm not flying to LA looking like this, I must be a mess! Where's the ladies room!"

I pointed to Ray's hanger where he had some facilities and she trotted off toward it, I turned to Paul, "Believe me now?"

He nodded, "She's going to be one hell of a pilot."

I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper while Buffy cleaned up the dishes. An article had caught my eye and I was reading it for the third time while thinking in between. The summer was drawing to a close and we would have to start worrying about the harvest shortly, which was going to cut into our flying time. Buffy had been racking up the hours like crazy; we were scheduled to go down to LA on Saturday so she could take the test for her single engine instructor and multi-engine commercial tickets. If she passed, and I knew she would, she would be almost caught up with me. I was going to take my multi-engine instructor test and if I passed that then I would still be one ticket ahead of her.

I looked back at the article again; I finished reading it for the third time when Buffy sat down at the table, "What's got you so engrossed?"

I looked at her for a moment, "What are you going to do?"

She looked at me quizzically for a moment, "Tonight? Tomorrow? Next week? Next month? Sort of an open ended question, isn't it?"

I nodded and decided to try a different track, "Buffy, are we going to get into this war?"

She looked at me seriously for a moment, "Barb, I've told you I don't like predicting…"

"Please, Buffy, just answer that one question."

She watched me for a few moments and then shrugged, "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"I'm not. I wasn't the greatest student in the world and history certainly wasn't my strong suit, but things aren't the same here. At least they don't seem right."

"What do you mean?"

"Things don't seem to be the same as I remember from my history classes."

"What things?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure Germany invaded Russia sometime this summer in my world."

"Well, they signed that non-aggression pact a couple years ago."

"Yeah, that's the same, but Hitler invaded anyway, caught them completely off guard and nearly conquered them."

"So England didn't hold out in 40?"

"No, they held out."

"Hitler started a two front war? He couldn't have been that stupid!"

"Well, he was."

"So what brought us into the war?"

"The Japanese."

"The Japanese?!"

"Yeah, so without the Soviet Union and the Germans going at it I don't know if they'll do what they did in my world."

"Jesus! So you really don't know what's going to happen?"

"No!"

I leaned back and started thinking again, but did it really make any difference? With what the Japs were doing in China and the Germans in Europe I didn't think we would stay out forever. From the article it was obvious that Roosevelt didn't think we would.

"Barb?"

"Huh? What?"

"What is going on?"

I looked at Buffy for a moment and then slid the paper to her; she looked at the article I'd been reading, then picked up the paper and read it. After a couple of minutes she put down the paper, "What does that mean?"

"Jackie Cochran and Nancy Love are both famous women pilots."

"Yeah, I've read about Cochran."

"Well they were rivals, but last year Mrs. Roosevelt got them together and they submitted a joint proposal to the Army, which means to General Arnold, to let women into the Army to handle non-combat flying missions. Ferrying planes, training duties, things like that."

"Makes sense, well other than the non-combat part."

"You think women should fly combat?!"

She shrugged her shoulders, "If they're qualified, why the hell not?"

I just shook my head as I stared at her; sometimes she was beyond belief, "Jesus!"

"What?"

"Never mind!"

She shrugged, "Okay, so back to this article you find so fascinating."

"The proposals been approved."

"Yes, I read that."

"I'm qualified, for that matter you will be if you pass your tests on Saturday."

"What? It said the applicants had to be qualified professional pilots!"

"I know, that's the term they use. But what it means is you have to have at least your multi-engine commercial ticket."

Suddenly Buffy's eyes gleamed, "We'd be able to fly Army planes?"

"That's what the proposal specified; women pilots would go through advanced flight training and be certified on the types of planes they could fly. But potentially they would fly any kind of plane the army flies."

Buffy sat back in her chair and a gleam came to her eye, "Well, wouldn't that be a trip."

"I take it you'd be interested?"

She looked at me for a moment and then her expression fell, "But it means joining the fucking army!"

I shook my head, "Well, you certainly have the language for it!"

She looked at me, "What?"

"I said you have the language for it."

"Yeah but my other run in with the military, it wasn't of the happy making."

"What happened?"

"Well… No, different time different place, not a story I want to go back to." Buffy sat there for several minutes, lost in her thoughts. I was used to that, I knew when she did that she was weighing her options, she would come to a decision soon enough. Finally she let out a sigh, "It'd probably be good for me, and oh do I want to fly some of those planes."

"So, are we going to try?"

"Hell, yes!" she grinned at me, and then the grin slipped, "But what about the ranch?"

I had been thinking about that, "Let's make a deal."

"What deal?"

"If either of us doesn't make it we'll come back and run the ranch."

"I don't know anything about running the ranch!"

"You do, you know a lot more than you think you do. But if you want, we'll hire a manager to work with you for a while if you really think it's necessary. But that won't be the issue, I'm sure you'll qualify."

"Barb, you'll qualify without any problems, so what happens when we both make it?"

"We'll hire a manager to run it for us."

"Us? It's your ranch Barb."

I shrugged; it wasn't an argument I was going to get into with her at this point, "So, we need to take enough stuff to spend a couple of days in LA, I have no idea how much running around we'll have to do to get the applications submitted. I doubt that they'll even have the process in place, but we'll try. We want to be at the front of the queue if we can."

11


	6. Chapter 6: Enlisting

By Monday afternoon I was ready to tear my hair out, and Buffy was going to start punching one of the recruiting officer's if I didn't find a way to settle her down pretty soon. Nobody would tell us how to go about applying for the new program, they just sent us from one flunky to another where we'd wait around for an hour or so before they said 'Sorry, ma'am, I can't help you, you need to go to blah blah blah.' So we went to 'blah blah blah' and sat around for another hour.

I swore this was the last waiting room I was going to hang out in; if we didn't get an answer here we were heading back to the field and going home. We'd told the sergeant sitting at a desk beside a door to an inner office what we wanted when we had come in, he'd asked us to have a seat and then disappeared into the inner office. He'd come back and told us it would be a couple of minutes. Now a harsh buzz came from some contraption he had on his desk, a moment later a distorted voice came from it but I couldn't understand what it said. He listened for a moment and then touched a button on the machine and said "Yes, sir."

He looked up at us, "Ladies, the major will see you now."

Buffy and I got up and went through the door the sergeant held open for us and we walked into a small office. The officer behind the desk was on the phone, he put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked up at us; he looked from me to Buffy and then back to me before he put his hand over the mouth piece of the phone and quietly asked me, "Barbara Thompson?"

"Yes, sir, that's me." I answered, I saw he had pilot's wings on his tunic, but he looked old for his rank, well into his forties I would guess although he looked fit.

He spoke into the phone, "Yes, ma'am. Barbara Thompson is one of the ladies."

He listened for a moment longer and then held the phone out to me, I took it, "Hello?"

A woman's voice asked, "Barbara Thompson?"

"Yes."

"Are you Frank and Margie's daughter?"

"Yes."

"This is Jackie Cochran, I knew your parents, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Your Dad was one of my early instructors, he was a good teacher."

"Yes, he was."

"So you want to join my little troupe?"

"Yes ma'am, me and my friend."

"Your Dad taught you? How many hours have you got?"

"Yes, and over 500. Most in my Jenny, but over 200 in bigger planes, including 120 in multi-engine. I just got my ticket for multi-engine instructor."

"And your friend?"

"She's got about 260; she has all her single engine certifications and her multi-engine commercial ticket."

"Your Dad taught her?"

"No ma'am, I taught her, she's only been flying about three months."

"And she's got 260 hours!? Are they legit?"

"Yes ma'am, every one of them; and she's a natural; do you know Paul Tadowski?

"I've met him once or twice, and I know his reputation, he's a good pilot, why?"

"Just before she got her private ticket I asked him to take her up in his Staggerwing to give her some experience with a bigger plane and to practice radio procedures since all she'd been flying was my Jenny. He swore she had to have at least three or four hundred hours to handle the plane the way she did, it took a lot to convince him she had less than 40 hours in a Jenny and had never flown a Staggerwing before."

"Okay, look, we're going to have three basic groups, new girls with less than 50 hours are going to go through the standard army flight training down in Texas. Then I want a cadre of experienced instructors to help the army aviators teach at that school and additional schools as we expand. Third, I want a small group to go straight to flying; they'll take check flights up to the advanced training level and then be run through a quickie version of the advanced training syllabus to verify they can handle the job. Then we'll start certifying them on the planes we want them to really fly, I want them flying army planes as quickly as possible, within a couple months at the most."

"That's what we want, ma'am."

"That's what everyone wants, but you sound like you might be what I want."

"And Buffy, ma'am."

"Buffy?"

"My friend."

"I don't know, it doesn't sound like she has enough experience…"

"Ma'am, just give her a chance. You've got to know someone out here, have them give her a check ride."

There was a pause for a minute, "Okay, give me back to the major."

I handed him the phone and he listened to her for several minutes, taking notes on the pad in front of him and interjecting an occasional 'Yes, ma'am' or 'I understand.'

Finally he hung up and leaned back in his chair, he looked at me for a moment, "You're Frank and Margie's kid?"

"Yes."

"I knew your Dad a long time ago, during the last war; he saved my bacon a couple of times." He held out his hand, "Zach Taylor."

I took it, "Mr. Taylor? I'm sorry, I should have recognized you, you're in the picture my Dad had hanging over his desk the entire time I was growing up."

"I was a lot younger when that picture was taken Miss."

"Barbara, yes, still…"

He waved his hand at me, "So Barbara, you want to fly planes for the Army?"

"Yes, sir!"

"And your little friend there?"

Buffy responded before I could, "I'm standing right here! And I'm not little; I'm just the right size for my height!"

Major Taylor snorted, "She's a real spitfire, isn't she?"

"Still right here!"

"Buffy, relax, I know these types, the more you react to them the more they'll keep doing it."

Buffy glared at me and then back to the Major, she put her hands on his desk and leaned toward him, something in her bearing changed, I had seen it once or twice, it was like she had suddenly become a very large predator rather than a rather petit young woman, "Yes, I want to fly planes for your fucking Army."

Her language and demeanor set the Major back in his seat, he was startled more than actually intimidated I thought, he returned her gaze for a moment, "Well, yes, maybe you will do just fine. No offense meant, Miss."

Buffy nodded and stood up straight, I looked at the Major, "So, what do we have to do?"

He glanced at his watch, "It's pretty late; we aren't going to be able to do it today. How long are you going to be in town?"

"We can stay another day; then we need to get back to the ranch. But we can come down anytime we need to; it takes less than an hour."

"You live close to LA?"

"Sunnydale."

"That's a lot longer than an hour!"

"I've got a Model 18, family plane."

"Oh, right. Well, I've got a bunch of forms for you to fill out and then there is some stuff you'll have to provide for us to check, birth certificates, licenses, things like that. I've got a list here. Once all the paperwork is done then you have to have a physical, we can get that done over at the recruit depot."

"We should have everything you need to check, let me see." I held out my hand and he handed me the pad he had been writing on, I looked it over, "Yeah, we've got everything with us."

He nodded and took back the pad, "Good, I'll get the forms you'll need to fill out and you can do that this evening. Then you can bring them back in the morning and I'll check them and the rest of your paperwork, if it all checks then you can get the physicals."

"Sounds like a plan."

"The other thing is that Jackie wants me to give your friend a check ride."

"My name is Buffy, not 'your friend'!"

"Okay, Miss Buffy…"

"God! You sound like Drusilla!"

"Drusilla?"

"Never mind, an old, old acquaintance." She stuck out her hand, "Buffy Summers."

He took it and shook it, "Miss Summers, Zach Taylor."

"I heard."

I intervened at that point, "I'm sure Buffy would love to take you up, we've got the Model 18 at the LA airport if you want to use that."

"No, I've got a PT-17 out there we use for recruiting flights and demonstrations; I think we'll use that."

Buffy nodded, "Fine."

"Have you ever flown a PT-17, or a Stearman?"

"I've flown a Staggerwing a couple of times."

"Okay, then you'll have some familiarity; the PT-17 is a lot hotter though. How are you ladies getting around?"

"Bus, or walking," I answered.

"It's late enough; I can call it a day. Let me get the paperwork you need to fill out and then we can take my car out to the airport and I can give Miss Summers her check ride."

Buffy spoke up, "Good, I'm tired of all the walking around we've had to do today."

He grinned at her, "You want to join the Army and you don't like walking, not a good combination."

"I want to join the Army Air Force, I like flying."

He chuckled as he got up from behind his desk, "You'll still do a lot of walking, and marching." He led us back to the outer office with his pad in hand; he gave the pad to the sergeant, "Would you get these forms for the ladies, they'll need two of each and you better have some extras in case they mess one up. I'll go over to the FBI's office and get the back-ground check form; we should really have some of those over here."

"Yes, sir," the sergeant got up and started going through the file cabinets pulling out forms as the major left the office.

Buffy looked at the growing pile, "Can't we just fill out one copy and xerox… oof"

I elbowed her in the ribs; I knew she was about say something that wouldn't make sense, I tried to cover up, "Do we have to type any of these?"

"No, they can all be filled out by hand," the sergeant said as he looked questioningly over his shoulder at Buffy, "you were saying Miss?"

Buffy shook her head, "Nothing…"

He nodded and went back to collecting forms.

"We need two of each form, in pen, minor strike outs and corrections are permitted but you have to initial each one, if you make a major mistake fill out a new one. I've given you an extra of each, two of the longer ones." He said as he handed each of us a half inch thick stack of forms. I sat down and started to leaf through them, damn there was a lot of them. "Here, ma'am, you can put them in this."

I looked up and the sergeant was holding out a big manila envelope, I took it and stuffed the forms into the envelope. Buffy had her forms in a similar envelope and she was looking at it disgustedly, "Well, that sort of ruins any plans we had for this evening."

The Major was back a few minutes later with another form for each of us, he went back into his office and came back out a minute later with his uniform coat on and his hat in his hand, "Ladies, if you're ready?"

The ride out to the LA airport only took about fifteen minutes; I got Major Taylor to talk about when he had flown with Dad in France. He kept it light; talking about the flying and the stunts some of the pilots would pull to ease the tension in the squadron and not about the actual fighting itself. Dad had been the same way, it was tough to get him to talk about the War and even when he did it was about everyday things or funny things.

I thought back to the picture that hung above my Dad's desk, there were three young men standing in front of a Spad, grinning at the camera, Dad, Major Taylor although he wasn't a Major then, just a Lieutenant like Dad, and another man, Ben Carter, who hadn't survived the war. Taylor and Carter we're congratulating Dad on his fifth victory, making him an Ace. Dad had ended the war a double Ace with ten kills, I thought Major Taylor had eight and I didn't know how many Carter had; Dad would hardly ever talk about him except to say he was a great guy.

We pulled into the airport and Major Taylor drove down to the far end of the field where there was a hanger painted army green and several P-40s were parked in front of it. I looked longingly at the low slung airplanes with the long noses; they looked like they were flying even sitting on the ground. We came to a stop behind them near the open door to the hanger; I got out of the car followed by Buffy clambering out of the back seat.

A sergeant came out of the hanger at a trot and yelled at us, "Hey, no civilians…"

The Major stepped around from the driver's side and the sergeant came to a stumbling stop, he came to attention and threw his hand up to his forehead, "Sorry, sir."

The Major returned his salute, "No problem son; just doing your job, you're new around here?"

"Yes, sir, reported in yesterday."

"I'm Major Taylor; you'll see me around, I work downtown but get out here pretty regularly. I need to take the PT-17 up for a check ride, is she available?"

"Uh, yes sir. Just let me get Captain Jenkins."

"Good afternoon, sir!" another voice called out from the hanger door where an officer dressed in flying coveralls and with an overseas cap crammed on his head was coming out, "How can we help you today?"

"Afternoon, Captain Jenkins, I need to take this young lady," he nodded at Buffy, "up for a check ride in the PT-17."

"Yes, sir, she's ready to go, but why on earth would this little beauty need a check ride?"

"We're enlisting," I said.

"Enlisting for what?"

"To do what you do!" Buffy said.

"Little lady, you can't do what I do, I'm a fighter pilot."

"I can do…" I slugged Buffy's shoulder to shut her up before she sank us before we even got in, I was very familiar with her feelings about what she called 'women's lib', this wasn't the time or place for her to get labeled as a radical. My fist stung and the loud 'smack' from my punch brought their attention to me, Buffy just shrugged like I'd tapped her on the shoulder.

I knew I reddened a little but I forged ahead, ignoring their stares, "We know, but we can fly and we can take care of a lot of the other flying duties so you can do what you were trained to do, fight."

He nodded, although he was still looking a little skeptically at Buffy, "Yeah, it could help, but I don't think your little friend there would be able to handle any of the fighters, maybe some of the smaller trainers."

Buffy glared at him but kept her mouth shut, "Well, why don't we let the Major take her up and see?"

"Or why don't you take me up?" Buffy said, suddenly changing her expression to a sweet smile.

The Major shrugged, "That sounds like a good idea, save me from having to change. You up for it, Captain?"

"Sure, what do you need checked?"

"Buffy doesn't have any experience in the PT-17 but she has flown a Staggerwing," he turned to Buffy, "and you're familiar with acrobatics, I understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"She's been doing my, well Dad's, old show routine in the Jenny for a couple of months, would the PT-17 handle it?"

The Major nodded, "Yeah, nothing you can do in a Jenny will exceed the PT-17s limits."

"What routine are you talking about?" the Captain asked.

"My Dad's old barnstorming routine, just a bunch of acrobatics strung together."

"Captain, go ahead and take Buffy up, familiarize her with the aircraft and if she's capable of handling it have her go through her routine."

"Yes, sir," he turned to the sergeant, "Higgins, get a couple of parachutes and see if you can find some coveralls and a helmet for the young lady."

"Yes, sir," he replied, "I don't know if we have anything that small, sir."

"Do the best you can, sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

The sergeant turned and headed for the hanger, Buffy spoke up, "I'll go with him, make sure what he gets I can use."

Major Taylor nodded in agreement, "Good idea."

Buffy trotted after the sergeant and caught up with him just as he was going through the hanger doors, the Captain watched her disappear inside and then turned to the Major, "Sir, if you'll excuse me I'll go get the rest of my flying gear."

"Go ahead, Captain," They exchanged salutes and the Captain headed back into the hanger.

The Major and I chatted for the couple of minutes it took him to get his gear and get back, a few minutes later Buffy and the sergeant came walking out of the hanger, the sergeant seemed a little dazed. I wondered what Buffy had done to him. Buffy was wearing some flying coveralls, a little large on her but not too bad, in her arms were the blouse and skirt she had been wearing. I wondered where she had found a place to change in the hanger and then I realized why the sergeant looked dumbstruck.

Her remark as she handed me her clothes confirmed it, "Sheesh, you'd think he'd never seen a woman get undressed before."

The Major and the Captain both looked at her a little startled, she saw their look and responded, "Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to put these on over my skirt and blouse, it'd ruin them!"

They just stared at her, finally she said, "Are we going flying or are you just going to keep imagining me without the coveralls?"

"Buffy!" I said, a little more shrilly then I intended.

"Well, what do you think is going on in their little manly brains?"

"Ah, yes, well…" the Major stumbled, "She is right."

"See, I know what men think about!"

The Major glared at her, "No, I actually meant that you should be flying."

Buffy nodded her head in response, clearly not believing what he had said, "Fine, let's go flying."

"Sounds good to me, come on," said the Captain and they walked over to the PT-17 parked on the other side of the P-40s. A few minutes later the roar of its engine cut into our conversation and we turned and watched as it taxied out to the runway, it sat there for another minute, the engine roaring and then dropping slightly as they ran through the pre-flight checks. Then it was trundling out onto the runway and accelerating toward us.

They took off and soon banked back over us as they headed out over the ocean. We watched them as they started doing some mild maneuvers as they climbed away from us and then turned parallel to the beach. They went back and forth a couple of times, I could sense when Buffy took the controls, there was just something smoother in the way the airplane flew. A minute later and I saw them turn into the landing pattern, they flew half a dozen touch-and-goes, the first just a little heavy handed and the next five as smooth as silk.

I nudged the Major in the side, "You see?"

He nodded absently, "Yeah, the Captain demonstrated on the first landing, your friend did the next five, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did," I agreed.

We watched as they climbed out over the sea again and then the plane started to do acrobatics. It flew effortlessly from one maneuver to the next, loops, rolls, spins. The constant changes in pitch from the engine attracted some of the other men in the hanger and soon there was a small crowd standing at the hanger door watching her as she ran through the routine. I was glad to see she was taking it easy; the maneuvers were smooth and clean but not done at full speed.

Then the sound of the engine went up as she started into the routine for a second time, and this time she was pushing the plane. As I watched I realized she was really pushing the plane, she was flying it right on the edge. She completed the routine, much faster than the first time, and then started in a third time and the plane was screaming.

"What the hell is she trying to prove?" asked Major Taylor.

"I have a feeling she's seeing how strong the Captain's stomach is."

The PT-17 came diving toward the ocean, rolling as it neared the water and it looked like she was headed straight in, and then she pulled out of the dive, continuing the snap rolls the entire time. The plane finally ran out of steam, the engine not powerful enough to pull it straight up, and it fell off the vertical climb and immediately started spinning. She brought it out of the spin and into level flight and entered the landing pattern.

A few minutes later they were back on the ground, she taxied the PT-17 back to its position, the engine roared and a touch of brake and she spun the plane on one wheel and brought her to a stop almost exactly where she had been to begin with. Buffy hopped out of the forward cockpit and then stood by while the Captain climbed out of the aft cockpit; he looked a little green around the mouth.

They walked over to us, Buffy was exuberant, she was grinning up at the Captain, almost gushing; "That was so cool! Why did you want me to stop?"

"Miss, you proved your point, you can fly!"

"So, Captain, do you think she can pass a primary check flight with a week's prep work?"

"Yes, sir, and the advanced course also."

Buffy shook her head, "No, I may be able to fly the advanced course but I know there's a lot of ground school stuff I'll need to learn before I can pass that."

The Major looked at her, startled by her response, "Buffy's done some research; she's got a pretty good idea of what is required for the different courses."

"Well, I think Miss Cochran will be quite pleased with both of you. I'll drop you back at your motel and you can get to work on all that paperwork."

"Gee, thanks!" said Buffy, then she turned to the Captain and stepped up to him and gave him a quick kiss on the check, "Thank you, Captain, it was fun… Sorry if I was a little hard on you, I know it can be real bad when you're in the back seat and you don't have any control. I was almost sick the first time Barb ran me through that."

I knew she was lying through her teeth, she'd never had any discomfort when we were flying, but I was glad to see she was making nice. The army air corps was a pretty small organization, word could get around pretty fast and your reputation had a tendency to precede you.

"You're welcome, Miss Buffy," he smiled at her, "you are one hell of a pilot!"

"Yes, I am," she nodded in agreement.

Two weeks later and I was at my desk going over the books and beginning to wonder if we hadn't jumped the gun a little. Ken and Martha's two kids, ages five and seven, were in the yard running around screaming. Buffy was chasing them and adding to the noise. I had hired Ken to manage the ranch, he and his wife and the two kids had moved in the previous week, and now all six of us were crowded into the small farm house.

It took me a few moments for the silence to register, and then there was the thud of little feet on the front porch and the slap of the screen door banging closed, the sound of Buffy's voice following after them, "Go to your Mom, she'll give you a treat."

I guess the boys had gotten tired or hungry; Buffy was inexhaustible in keeping them active until they collapsed. Then I felt that uncomfortable sensation of someone looking over your shoulder and looked behind me to see Buffy leaning against the door frame. She seemed lost in thought and then noticed my gaze and a wide grin split her features, but there was something off about it.

She stuck out her hand with the day's mail in it, a large white envelop on top, "Special delivery letter came for you."

I took it from her and looked down at it, in the upper left corner was "Department of the Army", my name and address appeared in the center. I looked back up at Buffy, "Do you think its good news?"

She snorted, "I doubt very much they're sending you a special delivery letter to tell you you've been rejected."

I nodded in agreement and slit the envelope open and slipped out a couple of sheets of typed paper, the first sheet was Department of the Army letterhead paper; I started reading the letter:

Miss Barbara S. Thompson:

You are hereby directed to report to Room 212, _11000 Wilshire Boulevard, _Federal Building, Los Angeles, Ca on 2 September, 1941 at 0800 for induction into the United States Army as an aviation cadet. Upon successful completion of the required training you will be commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant, Women's Army Corps, United States Army Reserves. Upon induction you will be immediately placed on active duty.

I looked up at Buffy and grinned, she smiled back at me but again I saw something was off, then I saw her hands were empty, "Where's your letter?"

She shook her head, "That's the only one."

"I'm sure it will be here soon."

I saw the doubt in her eyes but she put on a happy smile, "Whatever, but we've got something to celebrate! How long have you got?"

I looked at her, "Three days, I'm supposed to be there Tuesday."

"Well, we get the holiday together, anything else you have to do?"

I went back to reading the letter, it was mostly instructions on what to bring and what not to bring. There was also the warning that failure to comply meant that I would never be considered for a commission in the military again. "Basically, pack a toothbrush and a change of underwear and leave everything else behind."

"Okay, so how do you want to celebrate?"

I got up from my chair, "Buffy, I'm sure you'll get your letter soon."

"Yeah, we'll see. Anyway, congratulations are in order!" She stepped up to me and pulled me into a tight hug, and patted my back with a little more force than I thought strictly necessary, but I returned the hug, "You'll do just great! And the time you'll have…"

I let her go and stepped back, "We better go tell Ken and Martha."

I heard footsteps on the front porch and someone rapped on the screen door, "Miss Thompson?"

I walked out of the study and saw the mailman at the door, "Hey, Hank."

"Do you know a Buffy Summers? I got a letter from the Department of the Army for her but it lists your address."

I reached behind me and grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her up and propelled her toward the door, "Go get your letter you worry wart!"

9


	7. Chapter 7: Advanced

I came out of the barracks and I was holding in my emotions, how the hell could Helen have been down checked? She was a good pilot! And Tammy two days ago? My final check ride was scheduled for tomorrow and now I was worried. I looked out across the dusty plot in front of the barracks and saw Buffy sitting at one of the picnic tables in the small grove of trees, her books spread before her.

I walked over and sat down heavily on the bench across from her, "Did you hear about…"

She gave me a look that froze the words in my throat, she looked like she was about to rip the head off of something and do vile things to it, "Shush!"

Her eyes left mine and I followed her gaze and saw two check pilots, Hendricks and Gibson, sitting at another of the tables twenty feet away, they were laughing about something and then got up and left. I looked back at Buffy, her gaze followed them as they headed for the admin building; if looks could have killed they wouldn't have gotten three feet.

I watched them until they disappeared inside and then turned back to Buffy, "What the hell?"

She shook her head, "You were saying?"

"Have you heard about Helen?"

"That she got down checked on her check ride this morning and washed out this afternoon?"

"Yeah! How could that have happened?"

Buffy looked at me steadily for several moments, then shrugged her shoulders slightly, "It's because of those two assholes!"

"What?"

"They don't like the idea of female pilots, so they're trying to bugger the system."

"You have to be kidding!"

"I just heard them talking about their latest success, washing out Helen."

"WHAT!?"

"They're trying to get rid of as many good pilots as they can. When they get scheduled so one has the morning check rides and the other one the final check ride they down check any good pilots and the other one washes them out. They figure if only mediocre or bad pilots come out of the program it will get cancelled pretty quickly."

"You have to be kidding me!" I was starting to sound like a broken record.

Buffy shook her head, she had a grim expression on her face, "God, I wish I knew where Spike was."

"Spike?"

"A vampire I use to know. I think he said he spent the war years in South America. Damn!"

"What the hell do you want a vampire for?"

"Solve the problem we have! I think what they're doing could be classified as treason, so I guess I'll have to take care of it myself. I can probably do it so no one will ever suspect me, although I'm not sure how I'll feel about it afterwards. I've never killed humans before."

"Buffy!" I hissed, "You can't be serious!"

She looked at me and I saw she was, "I'm not going to let them destroy this just because they're male chauvinist pigs!"

"Buffy, there has to be a better way?"

"You're scheduled for your check ride tomorrow; they've got plans for you."

"What?"

"That was the last thing they were bragging about, how they had the 'duty' again tomorrow and how they'd be able to 'get rid of Thompson'."

"Shit!" I started racking my brain; maybe I could fake an injury or be sick and postpone the check ride. "I wish Major Taylor was up here, we could go to him."

"Yeah, but he's in LA and hasn't ever been up here."

Suddenly a thought came to me, "But Captain Jenkins is here now; I think he's the XO of that new squadron that's working up."

"Tell me about it, I've seen him a couple of times and each time he starts making goo-goo eyes at me. I never should have kissed him!"

"Yeah, but maybe we can get him to do something."

"Like what?"

I sat back, stumped, then a thought started to form, the idea whirled around for a bit and then seemed to coalesce. "Buff, the check ride is pretty straight forward; we have to do certain maneuvers in the prescribed manor."

"Well, duh!"

"Okay, so an outside observer, if positioned correctly, could tell whether or not those maneuvers were done correctly, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So, you make goo-goo eyes at him and convince him to take you up in that P-38 they've got rigged with two seats and you make sure he observes my check ride; then if they down check me we've got something."

"Right, this sounds like one of Xander's plans. Do you know how many things could go wrong?"

"You have a better idea?"

"Yeah, I'll kill them both, tonight, problem solved."

"Buffy, you can't!"

"Oh yes I can!"

"NO! I know you can, but you can't, not morally!"

She snorted, but finally nodded agreement, "Okay, we'll try your way."

"And you'll drop this other idea?" She looked at me steadily but didn't say anything, "Please, Buffy. I don't want that on my conscience."

Finally she nodded, "If it doesn't work then don't be surprised if Gibson has a slight accident at lunch tomorrow, you might not be able to take your second check ride until the next day."

I looked at her and reluctantly nodded in agreement, "But nothing fatal, young lady!"

She snorted and there was a feral gleam in her eye but she nodded in agreement, "So where do we find Captain Jenkins?"

"Let's get in our Class As and start looking." It was after flight hours so we weren't supposed to be out on base in our flying coveralls, although no one objected if we were just hanging around the barracks area. But if we were going to start searching the base for Captain Jenkins we had to be ready to go anywhere.

We found Jenkins in the squadron offices in the hanger, no one else was in the office although a couple of ground crewmen were working on one of the P-38s in the hanger. I glanced longingly at the planes as we walked through the hanger, god I wanted to fly one of those!

Buffy tried the goo-goo eyes approach but even I could tell her heart wasn't in it. Jenkins let her go on for a couple of minutes and then finally said, "Okay, enough is enough!"

Buffy looked at him, startled out of her role, "Huh, what?"

He looked at her steadily, "Miss Summers, what the hell do you want?"

She looked at me, "I told you it was a Xander plan; it didn't even get to first base!"

I shrugged, "It was worth a shot."

"What the hell is a 'Xander' plan?" Jenkins asked.

Buffy responded, "Xander was a friend of mine; he used to come up with these elaborate plans to deal with the current big bad and they never worked worth shit."

He looked at her for a moment, "I think I'm sorry I asked."

Buffy snorted and then looked over at me, I gave her a steady look and after a few moments she gave a little shrug and turned back to the Captain, "Can we talk for a minute, sir?"

"Sounds serious; have a seat Barbara, you can tell me all your problems."

I pulled up one of the chairs from a neighboring desk and Buffy got off her perch on the corner of his desk and sat down in the chair beside it. Buffy looked at him for several moments, "You know Hendricks or Gibson?"

"The daring duo?"

"What?"

He shrugged, "They've got something of a reputation, they seem to have a lot of success with the ladies, or at least they say they do. Have you two gotten involved with them?"

"Ewww! And I say again, Ewww!" Buffy squealed as she wrinkled her nose.

I shook my head, "No, we've never really met them."

"Okay, so?"

Buffy let out a long sigh, "I overheard them talking this afternoon; they were bragging about how they had washed out Helen Carson and how they were going to wash out Barb tomorrow."

"What?!"

"Our training group is coming up on their final check flights. It's been really odd; some of the best pilots have been washed out, and it's always a combination of Hendricks and Gibson. They washed out Tammy Nelson two days ago and she was an excellent pilot, and then Helen today. They don't like the idea of women pilots so they're trying to sabotage the program by washing out the best pilots and passing the mediocre pilots."

"Yeah!" I had thought of something that had bothered me last week, "Those were the same two that passed Sarah on her check ride, she said she couldn't believe she passed, she was sure she was going to wash out."

Captain Jenkins stared at us for a moment, "Are you sure? These are very serious charges."

Buffy looked at him, "Yes, I'm damn sure!"

"Well, you'll have to take it to Colonel Robinson," he said, Robinson was in charge of all the training on the base, "he can straighten it out."

Buffy shook her head, "You really think he's going to listen to us, especially after they wash out Barb tomorrow? He'll just say we're making excuses. We need more than that!"

"What were you two planning when you came here?"

Buffy reddened a little, "I was supposed to… to be sweet and get you to take me up in that modified P-38 you guys have tomorrow morning and get you to watch Barb's check flight, then when she was washed out… well, we'd have something more than just our say so."

He looked steadily at us for a couple of minutes, "Okay, I'll look into it."

Buffy looked startled, "And do what?"

"Now don't worry your pretty little head…" Buffy's expression as she rose out of the chair brought him to a stop, then he grinned at her, "Hey! Settle down, I was just kidding!"

She glared at him for a moment then sat down; she put her elbow on the corner of this desk with her arm up in the air, "Let's arm wrestle."

"What?"

"Let's arm wrestle! Is that too difficult a concept for you?"

He shook his head but put his arm next to hers and gripped her hand, "You call it."

"No, you call it."

He shrugged, "Okay, One… two… three… go!"

I could see him strain against her, his eyes went wide when her arm didn't move, and then even wider when she simply pushed his arm down to the table, totally in control. "What the…!?"

Buffy sat back in her chair and looked steadily at him, "You look into it, but if it isn't fixed I'll look into it and it will be fixed."

"What are you thinking of doing?"

"Oh, me? What could little old me do?" Buffy said in a high pitched, breathy voice.

He looked at her for a few moments, "Okay, I will look into it."

She nodded to him and her face became serious, "Thank you. I hope you can do something. I don't really want to have to… but Barb is not going to be washed out of this program."

He turned to me, "I was right when I said she was a spitfire, wasn't I?"

"You have no idea."

Buffy glared at both of us, "She is right here, and she doesn't appreciate being talked about as if she wasn't!"

I was sitting on my bunk morosely starring at the floor when Buffy came in; I heard her come to a stop but couldn't face her. I had argued long into the night with her and finally got her to promise not to do anything, but I hadn't seen her all day. And now it was too late, I'd been washed out of the program.

"What happened?" I shook my head but didn't say anything, "God damn it, Barb! What happened!?"

I looked up at her, "I got washed out."

"FUCK! I am so going to stake those fucking assholes!"

I went back to contemplating the floor, not only had they screwed me out of the program they had probably shot any chance I had of getting a flying job with one of the manufacturers. I guess I'd head back to the ranch. I felt the bunk sag as Buffy sat down next to me, then her arms came around me and she pulled me into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, Barb."

"It's not your fault!"

"But I wasn't here!"

"Buffy, you agreed last night that you weren't going to do anything."

"Someone, and I think I know who that someone is, changed the training schedule. I was on a cross country navigation exercise all day. I just got back, otherwise it wouldn't have happened."

"Buffy, you promised."

"I promised not to kill either of them…"

"Buffy!"

"I swear, Barb, I'll find some way to fix this!"

I relaxed into her, "Buffy, there's nothing you can do."

"We'll see about that!"

"Buffy! You promised!"

"And you said to let Captain Jenkins handle it; you've seen how well that worked!"

I didn't say anything, I just let her hold me and felt a little better. I didn't know what was going to be worse, not getting to fly the big birds or not having Buffy around anymore. I realized I was getting extremely attached to the little blonde. There was a hard rap on the door and Buffy shouted, "Come!"

The door opened and I looked up to see one of the new cadets standing in the door, she looked at us wide eyed. The first class of cadets coming in for full flight training had reported in at the beginning of the month, it had been a relief because they got to handle all the duty except for cadet officer of the day, that still had to be one of us, "Ma'am, there's an MP Officer at the front desk waiting for you."

Jesus, now they were escorting us off base? What the hell was that all about? "I haven't finished packing yet, he'll have to wait."

"No ma'am, he said now! He was going to come and get you but the duty cadet officer of the day convinced him not to come back here."

"Okay, I'm coming," I said as I freed myself from Buffy's arms. I stood up and Buffy flopped back on the bed, covering her eyes with her forearm. "Buffy, I'll be back; they have to let me get my stuff."

"Uh, ma'am, he wants both of you."

Buffy raised herself on her elbows and stared at the cadet, "He wants me to?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What the fuck is going on around here!"

I saw the young cadet starting to turn red, "Buffy, watch your language!"

She snorted but didn't say anything else, she got off the bunk and we followed the cadet back to the front of the barracks building where the duty cadets stood their post. There was an MP Lieutenant standing there impatiently, as soon as we walked up he asked, "Miss Thompson, Miss Summers?"

"Yes, sir" I answered and Buffy nodded.

"Come with me," and he turned and headed out the door.

"Come with you where?" Buffy asked.

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder, "Colonel Robinson wants you."

Buffy and I exchanged glances before following him out the door. A driver in a jeep was waiting for him and he climbed into the front seat, we clambered into the back and held on as the jeep took off. Five minutes later he was escorting us into the Colonel's office.

The Colonel, Captain Jenkins, Major Taylor and another officer, another Major I saw, were behind the Colonel's desk talking quietly. The MP Lieutenant motioned us to stand by the back wall beside the door and he stood next to us. On the other side of the door I saw Helen and Tammy in civvies, they looked serious but I thought I saw the corners of Helen's mouth quirk up in the start of a smile. Next to them was Sarah, looking sharp in her 2nd Lieutenants uniform but I could see she had been crying.

A moment later there was a sharp rap on the door, the Colonel turned to it and said, "Come!"

Two officers walked in, Hendricks and Gibson I saw, and came to a stop in front of the desk and both snapped a sharp salute as Hendricks said, "Lieutenant's Hendricks and Gibson reporting as ordered, sir!"

The Colonel waived a hand at his forehead in what could only charitably be called a salute and turned back to the other officers. Hendricks and Gibson started to relax and he snapped out, "I didn't say 'At Ease!'"

Both Hendricks and Gibson stiffened back up and Buffy and I followed suit, I wasn't sure who he was talking to. What the hell was going on? By the assembled people I knew it had to do with the check ride fiasco, but I wasn't sure who was in trouble. After a couple of minutes the Colonel returned to his desk and sat down, he leafed through some papers for a moment and then looked up at the two officers standing rigidly in front of him.

"Hendricks, you down checked Cadet Thompson this morning?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Can you tell me why?"

"She was not able to properly maintain control of the aircraft nor was she able to properly execute basic maneuvers, sir."

"I see, you state in your report here that when she attempted the 360 degree vertical bank she came out 14 degrees off her original heading and had lost 200 feet in altitude?"

"Yes, sir!" I was beginning to think that he didn't even realize that we were in the same room.

"Gibson, you washed her out this afternoon after she failed the repeat check ride?"

"Yes, sir!"

The Colonel held up another report, "You stated that when asked to perform three snap rolls in a row she lost over 500 feet in altitude and failed to stop after the third roll, going 90 degrees past the horizontal?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You two seem to be down checking a lot of the women pilots."

Hendricks responded, "Sir? They just aren't very good pilots."

"But Sarah Harkens passed her flight checks and graduated?"

"Yes, sir, marginal but she met all the criteria."

He sat back in his chair and looked at the two officers, "You two disgust me!"

"Sir!" They chorused.

"Fortunately someone found out about your little game and reported it."

"What?" This time Hendricks forgot the military courtesy required when addressing a superior officer, the Colonel glared at him, he finally added a belated, "Sir!"

"Captain Jenkins and Major Taylor observed both of Miss Thompson's check rides; they could detect nothing wrong with any of her maneuvers. They also took Miss Carson and Miss Nelson up and had them repeat their check rides; they could find no problems with their ability to control the aircraft. We've also talked with Miss Harkens; she admits she expected to be down checked and that she couldn't complete all the required maneuvers in a satisfactory manner. She added that she requested an extension for additional training but that you, Mr. Gibson, stated it wasn't necessary."

Gibson let out a strangled, "Sir!?"

"Shut your face!" The Colonel was getting angrier by the minute, "You have disgraced the uniform you're wearing. You have put people in jeopardy. And you have tried to destroy the careers of some women who are very fine pilots, from all I can tell a hell of a lot better pilots than you two!"

"Sir," Hendricks managed to get out, "there's been a mistake!"

"You're damn right there's been a mistake! And it is going to be corrected! This is Major Evans of the JAG Corps; he's going to read you the charges that are going to be filed against you for your general court martial."

The other Major stepped up to the desk with a pad of paper in his hand, "One - Conduct unbecoming an officer, Two – malicious falsification of an official report resulting in the severe damage to the mission or goals of the US Army, at least five counts so far, Three – falsification of training records resulting in the unsafe or inappropriate assignment of personnel." The Major looked up from his pad, "I've only been working on this list for about half an hour, I'm sure I'll find lots more charges before I'm done."

The Colonel looked at Hendricks and Gibson, "You have two choices; you can face these charges in which case the MPs will take you into custody until the court martial can be convened or you can resign your commissions in lieu of facing a court martial which will be so noted in your service records, you will be reduced in rank to private and given a dishonorable discharge."

Gibson looked crushed, he was hanging his head in shame, but Hendricks looked like he was about to explode, "Sir! You can't… those bitches can't fly!"

"Hold your tongue, Lieutenant! Those women are standing right behind you!"

Hendricks spun around and gaped at us, I guess he really hadn't realized anyone else was in the office. His face turned red and he clenched his fists, the MP Lieutenant stepped up to him but Hendricks ignored him, looking over his shoulder, his gaze darting across us until it locked on me. I heard the MP Officer "Lieutenant, control yourself!"

Suddenly the MP Lieutenant doubled over, a strangled gasp erupting from him. Hendricks had sucker punched him. Then he shoved the MP aside and he was charging toward me. I froze for a moment and saw him drawing back his fist as he approached me. I started to raise my arm to ward off the blow when a small blonde was suddenly shoving him past me.

Somehow Buffy took the arm he had cocked back to punch me and she jacked it up between his shoulder blades. At the same time she was forcing him down so he was bent over double as she ran him past me. I heard a muffled 'crack' as his arm snapped and then the heavy thud as she ran him head first into the wall. Unfortunately for Hendricks the admin building was one of the few original structures on the base, it wasn't temporary war time construction; the walls were heavy lath and plaster. Buffy ran him into the wall so hard his head punched a hole through the plaster and the wooden lath behind it. She dropped him and he hit the floor with a boneless thud.

Buffy looked down at him, a broken piece of plaster let loose and fell, hitting him on the back of his head with a sharp crack, smaller pieces of plaster fell with a light patter clearly audible in the silence of the office. Then Buffy said, "Oops."

I started to move toward him while voices started shouting behind me, then Buffy's voice split the din, "Quiet!"

There was silence in the room as I knelt over Hendricks; Buffy's hand was on my shoulder holding me back from him, "Somebody call the medics! Barb, don't touch him, I don't know but there might be spinal damage."

I looked up at her, "What?"

"His neck might be broken, moving him could paralyze him."

I looked back at Hendricks, "He seems to be breathing…"

It took the medics about five minutes to respond and another ten to get him loaded on a stretcher and out of the office. By that time the MP Lieutenant had recovered and he and the JAG officer had taken Gibson away to write his resignation letter, he wasn't going to face a court martial.

The Colonel looked at Helen and Tammy, "You ladies can come back in the program if you want, you'll get proper check rides and we'll go from there."

The two women looked at each other and then back to the Colonel, both grinning widely, "Yes, sir! We want back in!"

"Good, report back here tomorrow at 0800 and we'll have your schedule, you're dismissed." Helen and Tammy left the office; I could hear their cheerful chatter fading as they walked down the hall.

"Miss Harkens, we'll have to discuss what we're going to do about you."

"Yes, sir!"

"Miss, whatever happens you're not going to lose your commission, what happened wasn't your fault."

"Thank you, sir!"

He nodded, "Dismissed!"

Sarah left the office and I could hear Helen's voice from down the hall, "Come on, Sarah; let's celebrate!"

The sound of voices disappeared from the hall and quiet reigned over the office. The Colonel was back in his seat and Major Taylor was in another seat to the side of the desk, he'd turned it around so he was facing us. Captain Jenkins was standing behind him, "Miss Summers?"

"Yes, sir?" Buffy responded.

"What the hell did you do to Hendricks?"

"Ran him into the wall, sir, sorry about your wall."

"I know that young lady! I want to know how you did it!"

"Uh…" I could see the wheels turning in Buffy's mind as clear as day; she certainly wasn't going to tell him she was a Slayer, was she? "I, uh, I grew up in China, it's not the safest place in the world. My Mom was always a little worried about me because I'd go off among the Chinese. She had me in martial arts from when I was eight, mostly Tae Kwon Do, and a couple of years of Jujitsu."

"Tae Kwon Do?"

"It's a form a martial arts."

"Like judo?"

"Something like that, sir."

He nodded, "Miss Thompson, you'll repeat your check ride tomorrow along with Miss Carson and Miss Nelson."

"Yes, sir, thank you sir."

He looked at us for a moment longer, "I've heard you're both pretty hot pilots."

"Yes, sir," Buffy and I chorused.

"Well, I think I've got an assignment for you two when you graduate. We're going to be working up a lot of new squadrons here; we need pilots to fly the target tow-planes."

"Sir?" I said startled, that meant basically staying in trainers. We'd be towing targets for the fighter pilots in the type familiarization classes, where they learned how to handle specific aircraft, and for the squadron pilots that were working up for combat certification.

Buffy was more direct, "Sir, we want ferry flights."

"Well, we don't always get what we want, especially in the Army." He looked over at Captain Jenkins standing beside him, "Do we Captain."

Jenkins looked grim, "No, sir."

"I've tasked Captain Jenkins with leading the squadron work-up training group we're establishing. You'll be his first two pilots. I want us to come up with a stream-lined work-up system for squadrons, see if we can't cut down the time it takes for them to become combat certified."

I was startled, "Sir? Captain Jenkins squadron won't be here all that long."

"Captain Jenkins, much to his dismay, has been detached from his squadron." The Colonel looked at Buffy for a few moments, "Miss Summers, would you be able to teach the female cadets some of your fighting techniques?"

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

"Uh, yes sir."

"Good, come up with a training syllabus…"

"No, sir"

"Miss Summers?"

"I meant I heard you… I don't know about training other people…"

"Well, we'll give it a try and see how it goes, how about that?"

"Uh…," suddenly Buffy stiffened a little and I wondered what kind of trouble she was going to get herself, and me in all probability, into now, "I'll give it a try and we'll do this other thing but we also get to type certify on anything that comes through here and do work-up check flights on anything that we're certified on."

Jesus, Buffy, go for the whole ball of wax why don't you! Getting type certified meant being trained to fly a specific type of aircraft and certified as being competent to fly that type of aircraft. Most Army pilots get type certified on one or two types during their early career. Long time pilots build up their type certification list, and there were a very few very senior pilots who had open certifications, which meant they could fly anything they wanted to. Work-up check flights were done on aircraft that had major repair or maintenance done to them or when they came new from the factory to make sure they were safe to fly and everything worked.

"Young lady, you don't negotiate your duties in the army!"

"I'm not, I'm just thinking of what the pilots that are part of the squadron work-up group should be responsible for doing. Obviously they have to be the most competent pilots available considering the task they are to be doing. So they should have broad familiarity with all types of aircraft. Most of the squadrons practice their combat tactics against other planes from their squadron, correct sir?"

He nodded, "Yes, Miss Summers."

"Well, when they go up against the Huns or Japs are they going to be flying against the same type of aircraft?"

"Don't be silly!"

"So we need to put them up against experienced pilots flying different kinds of aircraft, aircraft with different performance and handling characteristics. That should be what the pilots of the work-up group should be flying, and they should really know how to fly them. And they should know enemy tactics, how the enemy flies their planes."

I heard Major Taylor snort, both the Colonel and Jenkins were looking at her with growing interest, "You know…" Captain Jenkins started and then trailed off.

"That… that may be one hell of an idea!" said the Colonel, then he shook his head, "But that doesn't have anything to do with type certification and work-up flights."

"Uh, sir, it could. That would be the quickest way for us to get experience in flying the different types of aircraft so that we could act as 'enemy' forces for the squadrons to train against."

There was a gleam in Captain Jenkins eye and the Colonel was nodding, then he looked at Buffy, "That's a hell of an idea. But I don't know where I'll get the pilots to fly the 'enemy' planes."

"Well, you've got your first two right here."

"But you're women!"

Buffy's expression started to darken, I poked her in the ribs before she blew what she had already accomplished and I spoke up, "Sir, we've both got a hell of a lot more flying experience than the new pilots joining a squadron, I think we'll be able to give them a good run for their money. Give us a chance; you don't have any other pilots available. In a couple of months you can see how the program is working and how we're doing as pilots in the program."

The Colonel sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers and looked at us for several minutes, finally he turned to Captain Jenkins, "How do you feel about this?"

He thought for a minute; then gave a little nod, "I think the idea is brilliant. And I think Miss Thompson and Miss Summers are capable of giving the squadron pilots some good competition. I've had the pleasure of flying with Miss Summers; I'd like to see how we'd do in a dog fight."

He thought for a minute longer, "Okay, we'll give you two a chance. And since we're horse trading here, Miss Summers, I want your full commitment for this self-defense class you develop for the women cadets."

"Yes, sir, right along with the full work-up flights for the aircraft coming from the factory."

Full work-up flights for combat aircraft meant taking them out to the gunnery and/or bombing ranges and testing the weapons systems. Buffy wanted to go shooting! I held my breath as the Colonel gave her a stony stare, "You really want to play with the toys, don't you?"

"Yes, sir!"

He shook his head, "You know, if you…" he broke off abruptly and started to redden a little.

"If I had a set of balls I'd make a hell of a fighter pilot, sir?" Buffy asked.

Major Taylor snorted, Captain Jenkins's mouth dropped open, and the Colonel gave her another stony stare.

I decided to try to defuse the situation a little, "Buffy grew up in China, sir. The only white people she was around were missionaries and marines; I think you can tell which group she takes after."

"Yes, well, Miss Thompson, why don't you, along with all your other duties, see if you can't civilize her a little. Theoretically she'll be an officer and a gentlewoman next week."

"Yes, sir, I'll try." I gave Buffy a glance but for once she held in her response, I think she realized she had just won the jackpot as far as she was concerned and wasn't going to blow it by getting sassy.

He looked up at Jenkins, "They're your pilots, or they will be, and part of the responsibilities that just got added to your group will be doing the work-up flights, the full work-up flights, of new squadron aircraft until the squadron is certified. Which of your pilots do the work-up flights is up to you."

"Yes, sir." Captain Jenkins responded as he gave Buffy a hard look, she grinned back at him happily.

"Okay, you two are dismissed," said the Colonel, "Now get out of here before you ask for too much."

"Yes, sir," we said together and turned and headed for the door.

Major Taylor asked something quietly that I didn't hear and then called after us, "Barb, Buffy, hang around outside for us."

"Yes, sir," I called back.

Once we were outside the admin building I pulled Buffy off to the side, away from the traffic in and out of the building, "Where the hell did you come up with that?"

"Do you know how many times Xander made me watch 'Top Gun'?"

"What?"

She looked around, "After the war, during another little war, the military figured out its fighter pilots weren't doing so hot. They came up with this school where they taught the fighter pilots and they made a movie about it with Tom Cruise, god what a hunk, but anyway, it's sort of like what they need here."

I shook my head at her in amazement, "You do realize that now we're going to have to live up to your little ideas about equal rights. I don't know how well I'm…"

"Barb! You are a hell of a lot better pilot than most; I'd say any, of the guys coming up from training. You'll do just fine."

I smiled at her, "I sure as hell hope so. It's going to be a hell of an adventure however long we last."

Major Taylor and Captain Jenkins came out of the admin building and walked over to us, "Before I head back to LA I was wondering if you young ladies would like to accompany us for some dinner?"

I looked at Buffy and she nodded, "Sure, we need to get cleaned up and into our Class As, give us an hour?"

"Sounds good, we'll be back to pick you up in an hour."

13


	8. Chapter 8: Targets

I was sitting at a picnic table in a little grove of trees near the hanger we were using while I filled out the reports for my afternoon flight. I turned to check the aircraft log and my chin brushed the collar point of my coveralls, it was sticking up a little, I smoothed it down and felt the small gold bar that was attached to it. I couldn't stop myself from grinning; I was a Lieutenant, well a 2nd Lieutenant but you had to start somewhere, and a pilot in the US Army! It had been a week since the Hendricks and Gibson fiasco, I'd passed my check rides, along with Buffy, and we had received our commissions.

Captain Jenkins and Buffy, with a little help from me, had been figuring out how to get the 'Squadron Combat Training Group', or as Buffy kept referring to it 'Top Gun', off the ground. We had gotten our first fighter planes - a couple of P-40 Warhawks - the day before and a contingent of ground personnel were assigned to us. So far Captain Jenkins, Buffy and I were the only officers assigned. We also had three AT-6 Texans assigned to us for target towing and anything else we needed to do.

The Captain was also working hard trying to get the modified two seat P-38 assigned to us but it hadn't materialized yet. I was almost through the dash 1 on the P-40, the pilot's manual, and once done with that to the Captain's satisfaction, I would get to fly it. Buffy was right on my heels, we would both finish the dash 1 tonight and hopefully start flying the P-40s tomorrow.

I looked at the four P-38s that were parked on the other side of the hanger; planes from Captain Jenkins old squadron. They had come in from their afternoon flight a couple of minutes after I had returned. The four pilots were standing near the planes, avidly discussing their flight. I could see their hands moving in the typical fighter pilot method of describing a dog fight. They must have been the flight Buffy was working with so she should be back soon. I concentrated on finishing up the paperwork so I could get back to work on the P-40 dash 1.

I heard the sound of a Texan coming back along with the distinctive roar of a PT-17, the small bi-plane trainer the new aviation cadets spent most of their time in. I looked up and saw Buffy flying close to a PT-17; she almost seemed to be escorting it back. The two planes went into the pattern; Buffy was flying the Texan right on the edge to keep it alongside the PT-17, her target sleeve still streaming behind her. She only pulled away at the last minute as the PT-17 set down hard on the runway and then slowly rolled to a stop. Something was wrong, the plane just came to a stop in the middle of the runway, the crash truck and an ambulance went roaring out to it, their sirens screaming.

Buffy came around in a second pass down the far side of the runway and released the target sleeve and it fluttered to the ground. By the time she had made her third circuit the pilot of the PT-17 had been hauled out of the cockpit by the emergency personnel and bundled off in the ambulance. The plane had been pushed off the runway and over toward one of the hangers further down the runway. Buffy set her Texan down very fast and then slammed on the brakes; she turned onto the taxiway and stopped her plane next to the PT-17. One of the emergency personnel came up to her plane and they talked for a minute before her engine roared and she taxied back to us, going much faster than was usual.

She brought the plane to a stop in front of the hanger, not even bothering to swing it around so it was facing out before she shut it down and hopped out of the plane. She was storming over to where the P-38 pilots were still talking. I got up from my seat and hurried over to them, I got there just as she came up, ripping her helmet off her head.

"Which one of you was Blue three?" She asked in a low voice.

One of the pilots, a big, slightly chunky man with a pronounced southern drawl spoke up, "Well now little lady, just calm your ruffled feathers."

"Were you Blue three?"

"Well yes, I have to admit I was."

"Listen you fucking asshole – when I tell you to break off you break off!"

He turned red, "Now listen here you bitch! They may let you fly your little airplane but you don't tell me what to do! No woman ever tells me what to do!"

Buffy started to turn red, "You mother-fucking piece of shit!"

I grabbed her shoulder, "Buffy! He's not worth it!"

"I wasn't going to say anything but now I'm going to report you, you disappeared after my pass. You chicken out?"

"You…"

I grabbed Buffy's arm to keep her from doing anything, she started to pull away and then relaxed.

"Look little girl, if you're real nice to me I'll even let you claim it was some kind of mechanical problem that made you run out on us. But if not…" He leered at her and I was afraid she was going to lose it. I knew if she did then I wouldn't be able to hold her back.

Instead she held herself in, she glared at him and he stepped back, I think he finally realized that she wasn't the little girl he thought. Buffy turned to me, "You're right, he's not worth it! I'll let the MPs take care of him!" She turned to the rest of the pilots, "If any of you ever pull a stunt like this asshole did I won't let the MPs handle it, I'll handle it myself and you'll wish the MPs did."

He spluttered at her, "You bitch!"

A sharp voice came from behind us, "Lieutenant Summers! Lieutenant Callahan!"

Buffy turned around and snapped a salute to Captain Jenkins as he walked up, "Yes sir!"

"I told you I would handle it."

"Yes sir! I didn't do anything to him!" She looked over her shoulder at the officer she had confronted. What the hell was going on?

The Captain looked at him, waiting until he finally realized what was expected and he came to attention and saluted. The Captain returned the salute and asked, "You were Blue three, Callahan?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are under arrest until further notice, return to your barracks. The only time you will leave your barracks is to report to the mess hall for meals, at all other times you will be in your barracks room except to use the bathroom facilities. Understand me?"

He had a confused expression now, "No, sir!"

"It's simple! You are under arrest; you will remain in your room except for meals and to use the head."

"I understand that, sir. I don't understand why."

"You don't know what you did?"

Buffy spoke up now, "I told you he was a brainless idiot!"

The Captain glanced at Buffy but didn't say anything, he returned his attention to the officer in front of him, "You disobeyed a direct order from Lt. Summers; you failed to break off on a gunnery pass when she told you to."

"Sir, Lt. Summers is only a 2nd Lieutenant, she can't give me orders!"

"She was the range safety officer, idiot! You know damn well that a range safety officer always has final authority, regardless of rank, as long as you're on a gunnery range!"

"But she's a woman!"

I thought Buffy was going to lay into him but instead she just glared at him. Captain Jenkins looked at him in disbelief; then looked at Buffy, "Buffy, you were right, he is too stupid to be an officer."

He turned his attention back to Callahan, "Okay, I'll spell it out for you. You disobeyed the direct order of a range safety officer, by doing so you shot an aviation cadet; fortunately it looks like he'll live. You are under arrest for disobeying an order, assault, and probably half a dozen other charges. I think we'll dispense with the house arrest."

The Captain turned around and looked at the hanger, a small group of enlisted men were standing by the door watching our little tableau, he yelled to one of them, "Sergeant Mosley, call the MPs, have them come on out here and pick up the Lieutenant!"

He turned back to the now dazed Lieutenant standing in front of him, "You stay here," he looked at the other officers standing around, "And you three make sure he does until the MPs show up."

"Sir," he stammered, "I don't... I don't understand…"

"Lt. Summers told you to break off because she saw a PT-17 had wandered into the gunnery area, he was a couple of thousand feet below you and in your line of fire you idiot! The cadet flying it was hit in the leg and chest; fortunately it looks like the chest wound is just a graze. This was his third solo flight; he nearly went in when he was hit. Luckily for you there wasn't any significant damage to his aircraft and by some miracle Lt Summers was able to get to him and talk him down. You're real lucky you didn't kill him outright and that he didn't crash and kill himself; you'd be up on murder charges if he had!"

Callahan stared at the Captain in shock as he wheeled around and marched off. In the distance I could hear the wailing of a siren, rapidly approaching us. The Captain paused near the hanger door, "Summers, Thompson! Get your asses in here!"

I couldn't help grinning as I trotted after Buffy, the Captain was really rattled. When he forgot we were women and started swearing at us like soldiers I knew he was preoccupied. As we came into the hanger I saw him going into his office, we had gotten this entire hanger assigned to us so he now had a private office. Buffy and I followed him in, "Close the door."

I shut the door behind me; he waved us to seats and I took one and Buffy sprawled in the other. Sometimes I thought she was as boneless as a cat.

"Alright, give me the whole story."

Buffy went through a detailed explanation of what had happened and exactly what, and when, she had done to try to prevent the accident. Unfortunately with the target sleeve over half a mile behind her she couldn't maneuver fast enough to pull the sleeve out of the way enough to keep the PT-17 from being hit. Callahan had disregarded her repeated calls to break off, he had even radioed back to tell her to shut up, she was disturbing his concentration, so there was no doubt that he heard her. The Captain listened to her explanation without interrupting.

"Okay, Lieutenant, fill out the incident report to that effect. Then contact JAG and find out what they want from you, whether the report will be enough or if they want an interview."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir."

"What are you sorry about?"

Her eyes dropped to the floor, "I should have done more! I should have dropped the sleeve; that might have stopped him!"

"Summers!" she looked up at him, anguish in her eyes, "You did all you could, you can't think of everything!"

Reluctantly she nodded, "I know, Monday morning quarterback…"

"What?"

"It's one of her expressions," I interjected, "thinking of what you should have done after the football game is over."

He nodded, "Yeah, that's true. But what I want to know is how you knew that PT-17 was even in the line of fire?"

Buffy looked at him, clearly startled by the question, "But… the angle Callahan was approaching on and the position of the sleeve relative to the PT-17… that and the drop the fifties have at that range…"

I thought about the problem of figuring out that the fire from Callahan's plane would endanger another plane that had to have been at least a mile away, the Captain had said it was a couple thousand feet below her altitude, and the sleeve was half a mile behind you when you were towing it for firing exercises. That was more than close enough when new pilots with usually lousy shooting skills were firing machine guns at it. The geometry of that problem… "Jesus, Buffy, how did you know?"

She looked at me, startled, "It is obvious… isn't it?"

I shook my head, "No, it's not obvious."

"You've done a lot of shooting, haven't you?" asked the Captain.

Buffy seemed a little dazed, "Uh, no. Don't really like guns, I usually stuck to blades… some of the others liked cross-bows…"

"Cross-bows?"

Buffy shook herself, "Uh, yeah… the Chinese use them for hunting… guns are real expensive over there…"

The Captain looked at her speculatively for a minute, and then I guess he decided to let it drop. He turned to me, "Thompson, did you hear them talking before Buffy got back?"

"No, sir. I saw them but didn't hear what they were saying. It looked like they were talking about their flight."

"Nothing like they'd seen the PT-17 and realized what had happened?"

I shook my head, "No, sir, they were just talking about dog fighting as far as I could tell."

"Okay, you don't have to write anything up. Lt Summers, I need that report as soon as you can get it done."

"Yes, sir."

He nodded, "You're both dismissed."

We got up and started out; then he called after us, "How are you doing on the dash 1s?"

I looked at Buffy and she nodded, "We'll be done tonight, sir."

"Good, I want to see Buffy out on the gunnery range as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," she said as we went through the door.

I brought the P-40 in on final in a long curve, with the cockpit far back and the long nose in front it was the only way to keep a view of what was ahead while landing. The wheels chirped as they touched the runway and then rumbled over the concrete as she settled onto the ground. I eased off on the stick and the tail wheel touched down. I stuck my head out of the side of the cockpit to see around the long nose as she slowed down. I applied the brakes lightly; I didn't want to flip her up on her nose, and then tapped the left brake to swing her onto the taxiway.

A couple bursts of throttle kept her going as I taxied back to the hanger. I swung her around and brought her to a stop, then cut the engine. I sat back in the seat and took a moment; she was a sweet bird to fly but an hour of mock dog fighting with Buffy followed by half an hour on the gunnery range was enough to wear anyone out. I let the cool November breeze sweep over my sweat soaked coveralls and cool me. Ground crew had the wheels chocked and the tie downs attached by the time I hauled myself out of the cockpit and onto the wing.

I could smell the sharp tang of burnt gunpowder still coming off the three 50 caliber machine guns, their muzzles just protruding from the leading edge of the wing in front of me. The roar of another P-40 approaching caught my attention and I turned and saw Buffy taxiing up, she swung her plane around and then brought it to a stop. She was out of the cockpit before the ground crew even got close to securing her plane.

We had spent two days getting used to flying the P-40 by ourselves. This was the first time we had flown together and tried out our dog fighting skills in a real fighter. I heard the sound of another aircraft, a Texan, approaching the field. She made a low pass on the far side of the runway and dropped the target sleeve she was towing behind her and it fluttered to the ground. The Texan circled around and came in for a smooth landing then taxied over to our hanger.

Buffy was on the tarmac in front of my plane looking up at me, grinning from ear to ear, "God! Wasn't that just great!"

I smiled down at her and nodded in agreement, then walked to the trailing edge of the wing and dropped to the ground. I ducked under the wing and came out and stood beside her, "Thanks, Buffy."

"What for?"

"For getting us this job! I've got a feeling this is going to be a blast!"

She grinned up at me and then turned her attention to the Texan; Captain Jenkins was getting out of the aft cockpit while Sarah Harkens climbed out of the front cockpit. He dropped off of the wing and waited for her, she dropped off and the two of them walked over to us. I could hear him as they approached, "… you have to keep an eye on your airspeed when you've got a tow like that, keep it a little higher than normal. Other than that you did well."

"Thank you, sir."

As he came up to us he nodded to me, "Nice shooting, Thompson."

"Thank you, sir."

He turned to Buffy, "What the hell are you?"

Buffy was startled by his question, "Sir?"

"I asked, what the hell are you?"

I was starting to get worried, Buffy was just lost, suddenly she popped to attention, "Sir! Summers, Buffy A, 2nd Lieutenant, United States Army, R10903429, Sir!"

Captain Jenkins shook his head, "Relax, Buffy!"

She eased her posture, "Sir, I don't understand…"

"Do you know what you did up there?"

She was looking mystified, "I thought I was shooting pretty good."

Captain Jenkins snorted; a jeep came up with the target sleeve they had dropped earlier. He called out to the two enlisted men in the jeep, "Spread it out."

They hopped out of the jeep and pulled on the wad of material stuffed in the back of the jeep, the two men spread out the light cotton panel and laid it on the ground. The panel was nine feet tall and forty five feet long, the leading edge where the towing harness attached was stiffened by a steel rod and heavily weighted at the bottom to keep it vertical when it was towed behind the aircraft.

There were bullet holes scattered all through the material, and then there were five places where the bullet holes were especially dense ending in holes from a foot to a foot and a half in diameter where the material was completely gone. I'd towed a lot of sleeves; the scattered holes all over the sleeve were what you normally saw. I'd never seen one with holes punched through it like this one. All the holes were within ten feet of each other, and they were all near the center of the sleeve.

"What the hell did that?" I asked.

Captain Jenkins looked at me, "Your little friend here."

"Buffy?"

She looked at the sleeve, "I did that?!"

The Captain looked over at the crowd of ground crewmen that had developed a little way away, "Sergeant Mosley, what are Lt Summers' guns bore sighted to?"

"Two hundred yards, like normal, sir."

He turned to her, "You made eight passes, about three seconds of fire during each pass."

"Yes sir"

"And that exhausted all your ammunition?"

"Yes sir."

"You had over 1600 rounds; I don't think more than twenty of those rounds missed that sleeve."

My jaw dropped open in stunned surprise, Buffy started pumping her fist in the air while she jumped around shouting, "I'm number one! I'm number one!"

Captain Jenkins shook his head, half in wonder and half in disgust I thought, under his breath I heard him mutter, "Now, if she'd just grow a set…"

Buffy stopped her dance and turned to him, "Even if I could I wouldn't, I like what I am! The Army should use the set it was issued and let me do what I should be doing!"

"Buffy!" I knew where this was going and I didn't think it would help her, or either of us.

Sarah was staring at her in amazement, the Captain just shook his head again, "I'm beginning to agree with you Lieutenant, for the life of me I don't know why but I am beginning to…"

Buffy looked at him seriously and then nodded, "It'll take a while, but the time will come."

He nodded, "Six weeks ago I'd have said never, now I think you are probably right. But it's not going to be anytime soon."

Sarah edged over close to me and tugged on my sleeve, I turned to her and she whispered, "Are they saying what I think they are?"

I nodded, "If Buffy could she'd be in a combat squadron in a flash, rather I should say if they would let her, there is no doubt that she could do it."

I was at the picnic table filling in the log on the P-38 I'd just completed the acceptance check ride on; she had been delivered on Friday. Tomorrow I'd fly the last check, the gunnery check, and she'd be cleared to join the squadron we were working up. We had come a long way in the last month, we had six more pilots in addition to the Captain, Buffy and I, two women and four men. We were all checked out on the P-40, P-39 Airacobra, and the P-38. We had four P-39s and half a dozen P-40s assigned to us; no P-38s yet, the Captain was having a tough time justifying P-38s since neither the Germans nor the Japs had anything equivalent.

We had developed our initial training schedule and next week we would start working up our first squadron, the 594th, which was being equipped with P-38s. We would be flying the P-39s and P-40s against them. I'd been reading combat reports and evaluations from the Brits about flying against the German Me-109s and Me-110s for the past month and felt I had a pretty good handle on their organization and tactics.

One of the biggest changes that we made to standard doctrine was to do away with the three plane V or 'vic' formation as the Brits called it, and switch to the much more flexible two plane element and two element flight arrangement the German's had developed. After much discussion and argument that included bringing in Colonel Robinson we had convinced the command to go with the new formation. So the squadrons we would be working up would be organized into four flights, Red, Yellow, Blue, and Green, with four aircraft in each flight. Each flight was organized into two elements, for example Red lead and Red two would form one element and Red 3 and Red 4 the second element of Red flight. Within each element were the lead (Red lead, Red 3) and the wingman (Red 2 and Red 4). It was the job of the lead, at whatever level, to direct the attack and the wingman to cover his leader to make sure he wasn't surprised while the lead concentrated on the attack.

I was finishing up the report when I felt someone sit down across the table, I glanced up and saw Buffy sitting there, she looked distraught and her eyes glistened with tears. Before I could say anything she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Barb."

"What?!"

"The Japs attacked Pearl Harbor this morning."

"Oh… my… god!" I stared at her, "Is this…"

She nodded her head, "Yes, it's bad, and it's going to get a lot worse for the next six months to a year."

"But in the end?"

"In the end… Yeah, in the end… but you won't believe what it's going to cost."

I nodded my head, a siren started going off in the distance. "It's going to be a cluster fuck for the next couple of days, isn't it?"

Buffy grinned through her tears, "Language, Barb; but yeah, I would say so."

"What's going to happen?"

Buffy glanced around, no one was near us, "Well, if it goes the same then we'll declare war on Japan and then Germany will declare war on us. Roosevelt will fight for, and win, a Germany first policy, so most of our effort will go to Europe first, especially the Army. The Pacific will be mostly a Navy and Marine Corps thing except for McArthur, he'll be fighting back from Australia and up through New Guinea to the Philippines."

"Philippines? McArthur's already in the…" I stopped as I saw the expression on her face.

"Not for long. Like I said it's going to be bad for a while."

I nodded, "What about England? Does she continue to hold out?"

"Yeah, but like I said before this is where it's screwy; if I hadn't had to do that term paper on the origins of World War II for Mr. Johnston's history class when I was a senior I wouldn't know any of this stuff. But I know Hitler attacked the Soviets in the summer of 41 - I don't know what the hell will happen now, I sort of thought the whole history was changing when that didn't happen. But now…"

"So this is the same?"

"Yeah, even a dummy like me isn't going to forget a date like December 7th, 1941."

A voice called out, "Thompson! Summers!"

I looked around and saw Captain Jenkins standing at the hanger door, when he saw me looking at him he pumped his arm, the signal to form on him. We both got up and headed for the hanger, when we got there he looked at us, "Have you heard?"

"Yes, sir!" We both chorused.

He looked at me, "How is 408 checking out?"

I handed him the report I'd just completed on the P-38, "She's fine, she just needs her gunnery checkout tomorrow."

"No more off days now, do it now. Summers, you fly the target. I want all our planes combat ready today in case we have to send them somewhere."

"Yes, sir!"

There were four of us sitting on the ground in the shade provided by the small grove of palm trees off the edge of the runway. Our P-40s were parked on the grass on the other side of the runway, ground crew were checking and refueling them. A couple of the men had wing panels open to get out the gun camera film we'd already shot and load the cameras with new film.

We were at an auxiliary field about a hundred miles from March. We'd left early in the morning, Buffy and I and two pilots that had recently been assigned to our group, 1st Lieutenants Jacobson and Eckridge. I looked at them, "Okay, sirs, if you're ready let's go over what happened this morning."

"Thompson, let's dispense with the 'sirs', if you're going to mop the skies with us I don't think we should be the ones standing on formality."

I nodded, "Sounds fine with me, I'm Barb and she's Buffy."

"Andy, and Bob is the stuffy one." Eckridge looked like he was about to say something but just shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay, first off, you have to keep your eyes peeled at all times, even when you're lead. Wing can't watch all the time; they have to keep a little attention on you to stay in formation."

"Yeah," Eckridge nodded, "I'd concentrate on trying to spot you and then realize I was out of position and when I was trying to get back in position at least twice you jumped us."

"It's a tell," Buffy said.

"A tell?"

"Yeah, like in Poker, you give yourself away; when we saw your formation tighten up we knew you were concentrating on that and not on looking for us."

The discussion went on for half an hour; we went over what they had done wrong, what they had done right, and what to concentrate on in their combat flying. Finally I felt that subject was about exhausted for the time being and changed it to what we'd be doing next, "Okay, enough debriefing. We should be getting word pretty soon that they're ready for this afternoon's exercise."

Buffy grinned, "Oh, yeah!"

Jacobson and Eckridge also smiled, I looked at them seriously before saying, "We'd like to lead, if that's all right with you."

They both nodded, Eckridge added, "Fine with me, just try not to lose me."

I looked at Buffy and she nodded, "Okay, guys, we'll fly in a finger four formation; Buffy will have the lead, Bob you'll be Red 2, I'll be 3 and Andy will be Red 4."

A car horn blared from across the strip and I looked over, an officer at the base of the control tower was looking at us and pumping his fist up and down, the signal to form on him. Buffy saw him and looked back at the rest of us, "I think that's our signal. Everyone stay loose but stay with each other. And no chatter on the radio until we intercept and then keep it to a minimum; and everybody make sure your breaks are clear."

I was senior to Buffy since I'd received my commission two days before her so she usually deferred to me, but when she was given the opportunity she stepped into the leadership role without any hesitation. She was a born leader or she had a lot of experience leading, or both. From what little I'd gotten her to tell me about her past I knew she had grown up having to fight unimaginable monsters. I thought she had been forced into a leadership role doing that but I also thought she was a natural leader.

We headed across the field; I saw the ground crewmen were closing the last few inspection panels on our planes. Five minutes later we were in the air.

I couldn't help grinning as I curved into the final at March field two hours later, following behind Buffy and Bob who were already down and taxiing up to our hanger. The four of us had creamed the other squadron despite the fact that they outnumbered us three to one and they were flying faster P-38s.

This was their introduction to our training program. Buffy had a long debate with the Captain and finally convinced him to let us try this scheme before introducing us to the squadron. The first two squadrons we had trained had all initially worked up at our field and knew us; we didn't have any problem working with them. The third squadron had done their initial work-up in Arizona; then flown to March for us to give them their final training. The problem was when they met us and found out half the pilot's that would be training and running exercises with them were women they started treating the whole thing as a joke. Their CO didn't help any with his disparaging comments about 'little lesbo women running around acting like guys'; I thought Buffy was going to lose it but she just laughed at him.

It didn't help any when she took him on in a one on one dog fight and flew circles around him, he didn't react at all well. It finally took Colonel Robinson jumping all over him to get him to be civil. We were finally able to get some training done but the results were a lot poorer than with the other squadrons we had trained. This time Buffy had argued to let us show them we knew what we were doing before their prejudices got established.

As I approached the end of the runway I saw the P-38s of the other squadron were nearing the field, they'd be down in a couple of minutes and we had to get our show and tell ready for them. Buffy and Jacobson were already down and taxing toward our hanger as I set down with Eckridge off my wing and led us back to our hanger as quickly as I could. We were deplaned and in the hanger before the first of the P-38s landed.

Forty minutes later the other squadron was assembled in the training room we had partitioned off in the back of our hanger. There was a raised stage at the front of the room with a lectern, blackboards and a screen for slides or movies. The rest of the room was filled with tables and chairs for the students. The photo guys had done a superb job and had managed to get all our gun camera film developed, none of the film from the P-38s was ready yet but since none of them ever really got a gun on us it didn't matter a whole lot. A sixteen mm projector was set up in the middle of the room and one of the photogs had the first roll of film loaded and ready to go.

The Captain was up on the raised stage and looked over the twelve pilots that had been flying and the half dozen or so others that had had to sit out the exercise. The pilots that had been flying were still in their sweat stained flying coveralls and they looked beat. As the lights went down we slipped into the back of the room and leaned against the back wall.

"Gentlemen," the Captain's voice came out of the dark, "by the time you are finished with our little training program we hope you'll be a lot more comfortable, and effective, in dealing with the exercise we ran today as an introduction."

"Who the hell were we flying against?" A voice came out of the darkness.

"You'll meet them in a little while, but I'll tell you that what you ran up against were two of our senior instructors and two new pilots that joined us a little over a week ago, although they are experienced pilots. For now I'd like to go over the gun camera film from the 'enemy' fighters you faced today."

The next fifteen minutes he spent reviewing the film, pointing out where and how we credited a 'kill' based on the time our sights were on the opposing plane and how close we were. When he had finished analyzing all four films and the lights came back up he had a black board next to him filled in:

Kill

Probable

Damaged

Red Lead

II IIIII

I IIIII

Red 2

II

III

III

Red 3

IIIII

IIII

II

Red 4

III

II

III

"As you can see your squadron was destroyed at least one and a half times. In fact Red Lead either shot you down or damaged you so severely that even if you did make it back your plane was probably a write off. We will endeavor over the next four weeks to teach you techniques and give you the practice that you need so that you have some chance of surviving your first real combat."

"Our instructor pilots spend their spare time going over combat reports and analysis that the Brits have provided us from their experience fighting the Germans. We're also starting to get some early reports from what our guys have run into against the Japs. They will try to fight as the enemy does, using tactics and procedures that have been observed or that they can deduce from the information that we have."

"You will be doing a lot of flying in the next four weeks, and there is going to be a lot of conflict, heated disagreements and arguments. I want you all to understand and appreciate that what we are trying to teach you is intended to save your lives. I want everyone to keep that in mind and everyone is to behave in a professional manner at all times. Now I'd like to introduce you to your opponents today,"

He waved his hand at us and we started up the central aisle, Jacobson lead and I followed him, Eckridge was behind me and Buffy brought up the rear. I could hear the whispers start and grow as we walked down the aisle and mounted the stage, we came to a stop lined up along the middle of the stage and faced the audience. The noise in the crowd grew, I could hear some of the louder comments, "What the fuck?", "Those girls were up there?", "Is this some kind of joke?"

We stood there for a few moments, the chatter didn't stop until the Captain yelled out, "QUIET!"

When the room was quiet he continued, "Like I said I'd like to introduce your opponents from earlier today, 1st Lieutenant Andy Jacobson – Red 4, 2nd Lieutenant Barbara Thompson – Red 3, 1st Lieutenant Bob Eckridge – Red 2, and 2nd Lieutenant Buffy Summers – Red Leader."

The noise returned at double the volume when they realized that our positions were just the opposite of what they had initially assumed; that the men were the leads and we were the wingmen. The Captain let the hubbub go on for a minute and then yelled for silence again.

When quiet had returned he looked over the crowd, "I want to assure all of you that what happened to you this afternoon wasn't a fluke. If you ever run into an enemy pilot as capable as Lieutenants Summers or Thompson you are going to have to be very good and also have a good deal of luck to get out of it alive. We are going to try to teach you as much as we can so that you will survive."

He nodded to Buffy and she stepped forward, "I'll be your lead instructor, any questions or problems that you can't work out or get answered by your individual instructors bring them to me. Lieutenant Thompson will be coordinating with your maintenance officer to insure that your planes will be ready when you need them."

"We start flying at 6AM, god I don't know why so early but that's the Army for you, so the bar shuts down at 8 PM, no drinking after that. If any of you show up on the flight line drunk you'll be sorry! And if you've got a hangover you had better not let me find out!"

"Why not?" a voice called from the back of the room.

"Because after I get done with you you'll have to clean the puke out of your plane, and don't even think of trying to fob the job off on your ground crew – they won't do it. And if you thought flying in fresh puke was bad try spending four hours in a cockpit full of old puke!" A chortle of laughter lightened the mood just a bit.

"Finally, I have a standing challenge. Anyone beats me in an individual dog fight or gets a kill on me and I'll buy their drinks for the night. Anybody gets 90% or higher on their gunnery score gets a 48 hour pass, and anybody that beats my P-38 gunnery score and I'll go on the pass with them."

"What's your score?" someone called out.

"98.9, but I'm going out again tomorrow and I'm planning on improving it."

A voice from the back of the room called out, "Who the hell did you lay to get that score!"

"I don't lay anyone for anything but our mutual pleasure, and sure as hell not for a damned gunnery score that I can do perfectly well by myself!" Buffy looked right at the man that had called out, her expression grim; then she pointed to the hanger wall that formed one side of the classroom, heads turned to see the center section of a target sleeve that was nailed to the wall, it was like a sieve with hundreds of bullet holes through it, "Count 'em yourself if you don't fucking believe me!"

13


	9. Chapter 9: Spits

The chill February wind made me shiver, sometimes even southern California got cold. I was standing in the hanger door watching as the ground crew swarmed over our two new planes, they had almost finished reassembling them. They had arrived in shipping crates three days before. Buffy came up and stood beside me, "God, they are beautiful, aren't they?"

I nodded, "Yes."

The Spitfires in front of us were the older Mk II type, no longer effective in combat against the new F version of the 109 that had appeared. We'd managed to get two of them shipped to us to use as 'enemy' aircraft. The Europeans tended for light, short range aircraft for their fighters rather than the heavier types that we produced. Having the Spitfires would give us the ability to fight more like the Germans than we could in the US planes available to us. We had tried to get a couple of Me-109s before the war started but the Germans wouldn't sell them to us. The few the Brits had captured or repaired from crashes weren't leaving England anytime soon. We had requested to get three or four wrecks shipped to us and hoped to put together some flyable ones from them but no one was saying when, or even if, we'd ever get them.

But we had gotten the Spits, now I just wanted to get one up in the air. I continued to watch as the ground crew closed up some inspection panels on the wing of the bird nearest to me, it wouldn't be long now.

"Is there a reason we're standing out here freezing our asses off?" Buffy asked.

I looked down at her, "It's not that cold."

"Well I spend enough of my time freezing when we're flying, I'm going inside."

I followed along behind as she wove through the planes crowding the hanger and went into the group office. Buffy headed for her desk and I went to mine, our two desks faced each other and their front edges were touching so it was easy for us to talk or hand paperwork back and forth.

Our 'Top Gun' school as now almost everyone called it was going great. We were down to under a month to bring a squadron up to speed and could handle two squadrons at a time. We had just gotten another group of four pilots, all men this time, and once we had them trained we'd be able to handle three squadrons.

We were flying a lot, six or seven hours some days. We'd had to double the number of maintenance personnel to keep the planes flying but so far, cross my fingers, we hadn't had any major accidents and only a couple of minor ones. Buffy had become Major Jenkins' executive officer, he'd been promoted 1 January, and she ran the operational side of things. I was the maintenance officer and handled the ground crew and made sure the planes were flying as much as possible. There were a couple of male pilots senior to us but so far they had been satisfied with just handling their flying duties. Besides, both Buffy and I could out fly them, and the Major had made it clear that flying was the first criteria.

Thinking of the devil I heard the Major call out from his office, "Harrington, find Thompson and Summers!"

"They're here, sir!"

"You two, in here!"

Buffy and I got up and walked into his office, Sergeant Harrington had a shit eating grin on his face as we walked by, I wondered what we were in for now. When we got in front of his desk we came to attention and saluted him, he casually waved his hand at his forehead, "At ease!"

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a couple of small boxes and then threw one to me and one to Buffy, "Congratulations, you've earned them."

I opened the small jewelry box and looked down at a pair of 1st Lieutenant silver bars. Buffy was looking at a box containing a matching pair. I looked up at him, "But I thought… Don't we have to have six months in grade, sir?"

"Usually, but you two have been outperforming your duties. I tried to get you Captain's tracks but the Colonel said that was too much."

"Thank you, sir!" said Buffy.

"You've earned it. They're supposed to come with a 48 hour pass but…"

I nodded, "We've got too much to do."

"I just want first shot at the Spit, sir!" Buffy said.

"Promise you won't bend it?"

"I haven't bent an aircraft yet, sir!"

He grinned at her, "No, you haven't. And I suppose you want the other one, Thompson?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, go get them, they should be about ready."

"I think they've got another hour to go, they were still checking them out a couple of minutes ago."

Buffy was pulling off the gold bars on her collar points. I took the box with her new bars from her and attached them to her collar. Then she put mine on me. We were admiring each other when the roar of an aircraft engine filled the office; Buffy cocked her head for a moment and then yelled, "That's not an Allison!"

We both headed for the office door and the Major and Sergeant Harrington followed after us. As we came into the hanger I could see the first Spitfire was parked outside, its Rolls-Royce Merlin engine settling down as it warmed up. The sound of the Merlin was completely different than the Allison engines that powered the fighters that we flew.

The ground crew rolled the second Spitfire out of the hanger as we watched, a minute later it roared to life alongside its sister. I looked over at Buffy and she looked up at me with a grin splitting her face, over the rumble of the engines she yelled, "Come on!"

We trotted over to the equipment shack in the rear corner of hanger; I pounded on the door frame and yelled into the dim recesses of the room, "Hanratty! Wake up in there!"

A few moments later a mousy little corporal stuck his head out from around a shelving unit, "I wasn't sleeping, sir!"

"Right!"

"You can't sleep with the racket they're making out there!" He held up a manual, I saw it was the quiz book for the Sergeant's exam, "I've been studying!"

I looked at him skeptically; Hanratty had been a corporal for eons, at least WWI if not the Spanish American war as far as I knew. He gave me a hurt look in response and I relented, "Okay, you were studying; we need a couple of chutes."

He nodded and disappeared back down the aisle and was back a few moments later with two parachutes. Buffy and I signed for them and headed out to the front of the hanger where there was now a crowd watching as the ground crew made some final checks on the Spitfires. The engines were both idling smoothly, their sound down to a quiet roar that you could almost talk normally over. As we came up Lieutenant McKracken saw us coming and yelled out, "HEY! Who said you two get first shot."

"The Major and these!" Buffy yelled back at him as she pointed at the new bars on her collar points.

We were held up for a couple of minutes while the pilots and the ground crew congratulated us; then I was climbing up on the wing of the Spitfire. One of the four British technical sergeants that had come with the Spits to teach our guys how to maintain them was kneeling by the small door in the side of the fuselage, "You taking her up, ma'am?"

"Yeah, if she's ready, sergeant!"

"Oh, she's quite ready. Been on the ground too bloody long as far as she's concerned!"

I smiled at him as I stepped into the cockpit and then lowered myself into the seat, getting the parachute positioned comfortably in the seat pan so that it supported me properly. I quickly glanced over the instrument panel, noting the slightly strange positioning and appearance of the instruments and controls, subtly different from the US aircraft I was used to flying. The sergeant closed the cockpit hatch and latched it in place, then leaned on it, "Any questions, sir?"

"No, I think I've got everything straight."

"Good show, sir! Remember, she'll be a lot lighter than you're used to and the response of the Merlin is a lot faster than your Allison's."

I nodded, "I'll treat her like a baby!"

"Oh, you don't have to do that ma'am, she likes to be flown! Just feel her out to begin with."

"Got it, sergeant."

He nodded to me and then climbed off the plane. I looked around, Buffy was in the other Spit; she waved her hand in a wait a moment gesture. A minute later a ground crewman ran up and climbed onto the wing and handed her a cushion, there was some movement and then she was sitting up with her head well above the cockpit coaming now. She gave me a thumbs up, I checked around the plane leaning out of either side of the cockpit to insure no one was in front of the long nose of the Spitfire.

I signaled the ground crew to pull the wheel chocks. In a moment two men had ducked under the wing on either side and were back off to the side, holding the wheel chocks up so I could see them. I released the brakes and gave just a touch of throttle and she rolled smoothly out onto the taxiway. I glanced in the little rear-view mirror mounted on the top of the canopy and saw Buffy trailing along behind me.

I keyed the mike, "March Tower, Fox-1, flight of two requesting clearance for take-off."

"Fox-1, March Tower, you got the Spits?"

"March Tower, Roger."

"Fox-1, you're cleared, winds negligible, 0 to 5 from the NW, barometer 29.2"

"Roger, March Tower."

I heard Buffy's voice chime in, "March Tower, Fox-2, copy that."

I stopped just clear of the runway and stood on the brakes while I ran the engine up and checked the magnetos and then throttled back. I released the brakes and let her roll out on the runway and lightly tapped the brake to turn her until she was aligned. The Spits greatest weakness was her narrow under carriage, you had to be gentle or she could go over and clip a wing tip.

Once she was aligned I shoved the throttle forward, she accelerated very quickly, much faster than any of the other fighters I normally flew. She started responding to the controls almost instantly, I eased the control column forward very slightly to lift her tail up and then pulled back just as gently. She was already light on her wheels and it took only a little back pressure and she lifted smoothly off, climbing quickly.

I pulled up on the under carriage lever and heard the whine as the wheels retracted, I shoved the flap handle forward and then reached up and grabbed the canopy and slammed it shut, cutting off the cold wind that was blowing through. I continued the climb and headed east for the desert, I looked around and saw Buffy pulling up alongside of me, positioning herself about fifty feet off my wing and just a little behind me. I could see her grinning like a Cheshire cat.

An hour later we had rung the Spits out, god were they a pleasure to fly! I knew we were going to have a time prying Buffy out of hers.

I popped the canopy latch and let the canopy slide open as I came into the landing pattern. The warm May air at this altitude was a pleasure after the cold at 15,000 feet. I set the flaps at 30 degrees and dropped the Spits gear as I curved around on final. I glanced around to make sure I was clear; Buffy was in formation astern of me following me down. The wheels chirped on the concrete and the tail touched down half a second later; I'm sure Buffy had set hers' down in a perfect three pointer but I was close enough for me. I couldn't compete with the Slayer's reflexes or eyes, but she sure kept me sharp.

We flew the Spits a lot, they were the closest thing we had performance wise to either the Me-109 or the Jap Zero. We had gotten a Zero that had crashed at Pearl Harbor to look over but it was never going to be flyable. We had also gotten three wrecked Me-109s and we were trying to piece together one flyable version, the airframe was coming along but the mechanics were having a fit trying to work on the engines. We'd gotten a shipment of German tools somebody had put together from stuff captured in North Africa so maybe the work would be a little easier.

I taxied up to the hanger, swung her around and shut her down. Buffy came to a stop next to me, I climbed out of the plane and had a brief word with the crew chief, the hydraulic warning light had flashed a couple of times but everything was working fine, I told him I thought it was probably a loose wire but to check it out.

Buffy was standing by the hanger door as I walked up, she shook her head as I came up, "She's a dream to fly but those guns are pitiful."

"Yeah, well there isn't much wing, but she was pretty heavily armed for her time." The Mk II Spitfires like we were flying had eight machineguns, but they were 30s rather than the 50s that most US planes used. The 30-06 slugs were less than a third of the weight of the 50, so even with 8 guns the destructive power was not close to the six 50s we had in the P-40s or even the four 50s plus the 20mm cannon in the P-38. Added to that was the fact that the guns were spread out along the entire wing of the Spit, the outermost guns near the wing tips were almost 30 feet apart.

"Maybe, but I like the P-38, everything is together and there's no convergence." The P-38 with its twin engines had all five of its guns in the nose, directly in front of the pilot. Fighters with wing mounted guns usually had the guns sighted so the fire converged in front of the plane, 200 yards out was pretty standard. With the P-38 you had a stream of fire going straight out, no convergence, so if your aim was good, and Buffy's always was, everything you were shooting was hitting the target.

We continued our discussion as we walked across the hanger and into the squadron offices. Harrington looked up from his desk outside the Major's office as we came in, he didn't look happy, "Major wants to see you both."

We dumped our flight gear on our desks and I followed Buffy into the Major's office. We had a pretty relaxed unit but we still followed protocol when reporting to the Major, we came to attention in front of his desk and saluted, "Lieutenants Thompson and Summers reporting as requested, sir."

He returned our salutes and leaned back in his chair and gazed up at us, after a moment he said, "Take a seat."

After we were seated he looked at us for a moment, "I got orders today; I'm getting my own squadron."

"Congratulations, sir!" I said.

Buffy looked at him, "Can we come with you?"

He shook his head, "Sorry, it's a combat squadron."

Buffy sat back in her seat, she was clearly disgusted and, I sensed, more than a little upset, "How bad are we going to get screwed, sir?"

I was startled by her question but then looked at the Major, he wasn't laughing it off. "Pretty bad, I'm afraid. Colonel Robinson is leaving also; actually he's going to be my group commander."

"Shit!" Buffy said as she contemplated the ceiling.

The Major looked at her for a moment, "Since we're being so informal…"

"Sir!" she snapped out, returning her attention to him, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Buffy, I'm sorry too," he looked at her for a moment, "I never thought I'd say this but I wish I could take you with me." He glanced at me for a moment, "Both of you. I'm sure you would both make excellent combat pilots, a hell of a lot better than most of the pilots I'll be getting."

Buffy gave him a weak grin, "Thank you, sir. And I agree with you completely."

He nodded, "Before I go I've got a couple of things for you, maybe they'll help with your new boss."

He took a couple of forms off his desk and handed one to each of us, I saw the title across the top 'Officer Efficiency Report', my name was in the first block. The Officer Efficiency Report was the Army's official report card on an officer, you usually got one once a year from your commanding officer and it went into your permanent record. It was the basis for both promotions and assignments. I started reading over it; beside me I heard Buffy say in a very quiet voice, "Jesus, sir… I am not a goddess… I know, I've met some…"

As I read through mine I started to agree with her. Efficiency reports were notorious for their inflated descriptions; if you were called 'average' or 'adequate' it was a death sentence to your career. But what I was reading was far beyond what I'd ever seen or heard of in an efficiency report. I finished and looked over at Buffy; she was staring at the Major in disbelief. I looked back at him, "I don't know what to say, sir."

"Look at the endorsements."

I looked at the end of the last sheet in the endorsement blocks, he had filled it out and signed it, below that in the first block Colonel Robinson had signed it and added 'concur most strongly', below that was the signature of Lieutenant General Hitchens, the area commander, who I'd only seen a couple of times at parades and once when he stepped into the back of our classroom while I was giving a lecture. The Major had been with him and told us to continue and they left just before the class was over so I never actually spoke to him. After his signature was "concur with this officer's evaluation".

I looked back up at the Jenkins, "Thank you, sir!"

Buffy shook her head, "Thank you, it's a load of crap, but thank you."

He shook his head at her, "Buffy, you had better start believing in yourself."

"Oh, I believe in myself, sir."

"I mean in yourself as a leader. I think almost every pilot we've got and almost every pilot you've trained would follow you in combat without a second thought?"

"If that's the case then why aren't I being given the chance?"

"You're a woman, for god's sake!"

"And that makes me less in some way?"

"Buffy… I don't know where you grew up but there are just some things women aren't suited to do…"

"Yeah, I can think of one, piss across the room standing up. Beyond that I'm having a tough time coming up with another one."

The Major snorted, "I've got the feeling you we're born a century or two too early."

"No, just the fucking PTBs sending…" suddenly she broke off, realizing where she was.

"What?" the Major asked, startled by what she had said.

"Nothing, sir."

He looked at her for a long time, "One of these days, maybe after the war, I want to sit down with you and I want your real story."

"Sir?!"

"Buffy Summers, there is something damn strange about you, and I don't think it was growing up in China."

Buffy sat stiffly in her chair looking at him, I thought for a minute she might actually say something, but then she relaxed back in the chair. "After the war, sir, when I'm out of the Army, we'll get together and I'll tell you a story that you probably won't believe."

"And you won't tell me now?"

"Give you a reason to stay alive."

He looked at her for a moment, "I've got plenty of reasons to stay alive."

She grinned at him, "Well, add that one to your list."

He nodded, 'Back to here and now, you need to sign your efficiency reports indicating that you've read them and have been counseled on their contents."

I signed my report and gave it back to him and Buffy did the same. Then he took a couple of sheets of paper and handed one to each of us, "I'm also giving you each a letter of commendation, these are your copies; the original is in your service jacket."

I read over the letter, it was similar to the efficiency report but dealt more with the work I'd put in developing the training program we were using. Buffy read over her letter and mumbled under her breath, "I think I should have worn waders before coming in here."

"What was that, Lieutenant Summers?"

Buffy looked up, startled, "Uh, nothing sir!"

He glared at her, "You're lack of appreciation is underwhelming, Buffy."

"Sir! I'm sorry… I just don't… Sorry, I'll knock it off."

"That would be a good idea, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir."

"Okay, now I've got one more thing. There will be a formal parade this evening; you two are not to miss it, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" we both chorused.

"Okay, now get out of here so I can finish clearing out of this office."

We got up, as we walked toward the door Buffy stopped and turned around, "Sir?"

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"Congratulations, really, on getting what you want. It's just that I'm really going to miss you."

"Thank you, Buffy. I'm going to miss having you around also… even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes."

Buffy grinned at him and then turned and I followed her out the door.

We went back to our barracks room and relaxed for a while before changing into our Class As and heading for the parade ground. We were in formation with the rest of our group while the parade went on; the aviation cadets performed a close order marching drill. Then there was the announcement of the change of command which would officially take place next Monday morning. There were a half dozen promotions handed out, three to non-coms in our group and Sarah Harkens was promoted to 1st Lieutenant, she'd done her six months and a little more as a 2nd Lieutenant. She'd actually become a competent pilot, she'd never be great, but she could handle any of our planes. She flew as a wingman in combat exercises quite often and did a good job.

Next were some awards, a couple of the new instructors were actually back from overseas and two of them got purple hearts for wounds they'd received. I was waiting to be dismissed when the officer running the program called out, "Lieutenant Buffy Summers!"

Buffy started and then stepped out of ranks and marched up to the podium set up on a little stage in front of our formations. She came to a stop and stood at attention facing Colonel Robinson as he stepped up to podium and started to read:

"Lieutenant Buffy A. Summers distinguished herself by extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight as an AT-6 pilot near March Field, California on 17 October, 1941 and is hereby awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. On that date while towing an aerial target for air to air gunnery practice she observed a PT-17 enter the gunnery area. Her repeated radio calls to halt the gunnery exercise were ignored and machine gun fire from a P-38 struck the PT-17. Lieutenant Summers flew her plane to the immediate vicinity of the damaged PT-17, her calm manner and helpful radio contact enabled the wounded student who was on his third solo flight maintain control of his aircraft. Lieutenant Summers escorted the student in his damaged aircraft back to March Field and guided him to a safe landing, demonstrating exemplary flying skills in maintaining close formation with the PT-17, an aircraft with significantly different performance characteristics than the AT-6 Lieutenant Summers was piloting. The professional competence, aerial skill, and devotion to duty displayed by Lieutenant Summers reflect great credit upon herself and the United States Army Air Force."

Colonel Robinson stepped over to Buffy and pinned the medal to her blouse as she stood there rigidly. Colonel Robinson raised his hand to salute her as he said, "Congratulations, Lieutenant Summers."

In a daze Buffy returned his salute and mumbled something to him.

It was less than two weeks later and I was ready to quit. Major Jenkins was gone and the new group commander, Lieutenant Colonel Stevens, had managed to almost completely destroy what we had worked so hard to build. I hadn't been in the air in over a week; instead I was stuck at my desk redoing aircraft diaries because they were 'illegible and poorly maintained'. Why anyone would care I didn't know, the aircraft diary was an informal notebook where pilots and ground crew noted things that needed to be looked at or fixed, but not severe enough to keep the aircraft from flying. When something significant was found it was noted in the aircraft's permanent log and the plane was taken out of service until it was fixed and checked.

Buffy came in and dropped half a dozen diaries on her desk before flopping into her seat, I looked at her and saw her uniform, the khaki blouse, skirt with jacket which she hated, was just about soaked through with sweat. Another one of the Stevens' little rules, since we weren't flying we had to be in 'proper' uniform; I don't think Buffy had worn hers, except at formal parades, since we were commissioned.

Despite being early May it was hot, unusually hot for this early in the year even in southern California. Buffy had been out getting signatures, Stevens required that we get the people who had made the original diary entries sign that we had correctly transcribed what they had originally written, another complete waste of time. Half the entries were made by people long gone; we'd never get those signatures. We had to get signatures verifying the correct transcription of all the entries made by people that were still around but we didn't have signatures for all the entries where the people had been transferred, why did it make any difference if we had any signatures? Not like it made any difference one way or another, the aircraft crew chief would glance at them to note any minor maintenance issues and that was about all they were used for. The whole job was just boring make work until Stevens could get rid of us, I was hoping it would be soon.

I nodded to her in greeting, we kept our interactions in the office to a minimum otherwise Stevens would reprimand us for 'disturbing the proper function of the group office'. Considering the only other person that was in the office most of the time was his toady, Sergeant Picker; that was another ridiculous rule. Sergeant Picker didn't do anything other than run occasional errands for the Colonel and he only did those when he couldn't find a private to do it.

Buffy snorted in reply, I whispered to her, "Take a break for a minute, I'm almost finished with this one and then you can head out again."

She nodded in agreement. It had started out with both of us transcribing the diaries but we had changed to just me doing the transcribing and Buffy running down the signatures after the first four diaries she had done had been rejected by Stevens because of her 'chicken scratch' hand writing. Admittedly it wasn't as neat as mine, I guess they didn't emphasize penmanship in her time, but it was legible. But rather than waste even more time we decided I'd do the transcribing and she could run around getting signatures. Besides, it burned off some of her energy so she hadn't killed Stevens or Picker yet.

I finished the last entry and leaned back in my chair and stretched, trying to get the kinks out of my back. I looked out through the windows into the hanger proper and saw it was almost deserted. The planes waiting for maintenance sat with their inspection hatches open and access panels off. Through the open doors of the hanger I could see a group of ground crewmen who should have been maintaining the aircraft laboring under the hot sun. They were setting rock borders near the side of the hanger, one group placing the large rocks and another group coming behind them painting them white. Another silly job instead of doing something useful, but I had figured out Stevens was all about appearance and not performance.

I almost commented to Buffy about the utter waste of time and talent, but thought better of it when I heard the rustle of paper and was reminded that Picker was at the desk by the door to the Colonel's office. I hadn't paid any attention to him other than to notice him coming out of the Colonel's office a couple of minutes before with some manila folders that looked like service jackets in his hands. I glanced at Buffy and although her eyes were half closed she seemed to be watching him intently.

"Buffy…" I started to whisper but she shook her head minutely so I let my gaze go back out to the hanger. I noticed the Spitfires shoved all the way into the back corner, another casualty of the Stevens' methods, nobody was going to fly those 'foreign contraptions', not when 'good ole US Army planes' were available. Of course almost no one was flying anything these days while he 'reviewed' the training plans and policies we had developed to determine the proper corrections that were needed to make the group a 'useful' unit. He'd already managed to get rid of almost all of the pilots that Major Jenkins had fought for long and hard. All the female pilots except Buffy and I had been transferred at the end of last week. A couple of new pilots had shown up on Monday when most of the rest of the group's pilots had been transferred. As far as I could tell they were more likely to crash than teach anyone anything, they certainly didn't seem to want to fly.

I heard Picker get up from his chair and glanced to the side; he walked into the Stevens' office with the folders under his arm and closed the door behind himself. I turned to Buffy and started to ask her what had her interest but she just shook her head. I shrugged and tossed the two diaries I had finished while she'd been out onto her desk and then reached over and snagged the ones she'd brought back and started leafing through them. I saw more entries were unsigned than signed.

I heard the door to the Stevens' office open and Picker called out, "Colonel wants you two!"

I snapped around and was about to remind him that we were officers and he was a Sergeant when Buffy clamped her hand down on my arm, I looked at her and she gave her head a little shake. She rose from her seat and tugged on my arm, I got up and she followed behind me as I went into the Colonel's office.

Picker shut the door behind us as we walked up to Stevens' desk and stood at attention, we raised our hands in salute while he sat there flipping through the pages in the folders on the desk in front of him. We stood there for at least a minute before he returned our salute. I started to relax and he barked out, "I didn't say 'at ease', Lieutenant!"

I snapped back to attention and stood there staring at the wall behind him, keeping my gaze centered about six inches above his head. "Have you finished fixing the aircraft diaries?"

"No sir, four more to do, sir."

"Humph," he snorted, "Have you at least got signatures in the ones you've done?"

Buffy answered him, "Yes, sir, about half the entries are signed."

"God! You can't even do that right, can you Summers?"

"Sir, a lot of the personnel are no longer on base. Everyone who is on base has signed their entries except for Lieutenants Asker and Tobias; they're on leave and won't return until next week."

"Likely story." Before Buffy could say anything else he continued, "Never mind, I didn't expect anything better from you two. At least I've finally got your transfer arranged so I won't have to deal with your incompetence anymore."

There wasn't anything I really wanted to say to that, or rather there wasn't anything I was willing to say so I just remained silent. After a minute he snorted again, then there was some rustling of papers, "Before you go you need to sign your efficiency reports."

That jerked my eyes down since Major Jenkins had just given us our evaluations just before he left. On the desk in front of us were a couple of 'Officer Efficiency Report' forms, I picked the one up with my name on it and started reading, "All you have to do is sign it, Lieutenant!" snarled Stevens.

I looked at him, "Sir, I believe I'm permitted to read my own efficiency report."

He stared at me for a moment and then gave a little shrug and a weasel like grin curled his lips, "Oh, go ahead."

I read through the report, it was worse than any I had ever heard of. I looked at the date block and saw it covered the period from when we were commissioned to today, I looked up at him. "Sir, Major Jenkins just gave us our efficiency reports before he left…"

Stevens smirked at me, "He must have decided otherwise because they aren't in your service jacket and you have to have one before you transfer since you've been assigned here more than six months."

I couldn't believe what was happening to me; I glanced at Buffy and saw that it was happening to both of us. I had seen Buffy pissed, she could go off like a firecracker when something happened she didn't like. But this wasn't like that, I could see she was more than a little pissed; she was about ready to kill something. I reached out to grab her arm to stop her from doing something that was going to get her into real trouble but I wasn't quick enough.

Buffy leaped over Stevens' desk and in one fluid movement shoved him back in his chair and then hoisted him out of his chair with one arm and slammed him into the wall behind his desk. Her fist was gripping his tie and shirt just in front of his throat and the pressure was half strangling him, he could not yell out and his face started to turn purple. I half expected to hear Picker come storming in behind us but the door remained closed, I guess the thud of Stevens slamming into the wall really hadn't been that loud.

Buffy's voice was very quiet and had an eerie calmness to it, almost like she was beyond anger, it came back to me, "Barb, check our service jackets."

I reached over to the desk and picked up the two manila folders sitting on it, I realized they were the same folders that Picker had just brought back into the office. I opened them up, on the right side I saw the thin stack of papers that were the various assignments we had had, a reverse chronology of our service. On the left where our personal information should be all there was were our commissioning papers and school records. All the aircraft type certifications we had received for the various aircraft we were qualified to fly beyond the PT-17s and AT-6s we had flown in school were missing. So was the efficiency report that Major Jenkins had done and that we had signed just before he left. Also missing was the letter of commendation and Buffy's DFC citation.

I looked back up at Buffy; she was casually holding Stevens against the wall. He had to weigh twice what she weighed, but he was struggling only feebly and was turning an ugly shade of purple. She was looking at me and not paying any attention to him, "Buffy!"

She turned to Stevens, under her breath she hissed at him, "If you stop struggling I'll let you breathe!"

He stopped struggling and she eased the pressure around his throat a little, the purple began to fade although she still held him pressed against the wall, her straight arm holding him at least a foot off the floor. She turned her attention back to me, "All our certifications are gone along with the efficiency reports and the letters of commendation. Your DFC citation is also missing."

She turned back to him and a really evil smile came over her face, "You're not only a fucking asshole, you're a fucking incompetent asshole! We've got copies of the letters of commendation and the DFC citation came from Washington so I know they have copies of it. And I guess you didn't bother to really look at the efficiency evaluation, because not only was it endorsed by Major Jenkins and Colonel Robinson, the General also signed it. I doubt very much that a two-star signs so many 1st Lieutenant's efficiency reports that he's going to forget ours."

Buffy relaxed her grip a little and Stevens managed to squeak out, "Summers, consider yourself under arrest, I'm bringing…

Buffy's grip tightened and he started to turn purple again, "No, asshole! You are not! What you are going to do is to call that mother-fucking little prick of a Sergeant of yours back in here and tell him to 'find' those papers that he just stuffed in his burn bag and bring them back in here."

Buffy relaxed her grip slightly and he managed to gasp out, "I'm charging you with assault!"

Buffy's grip cut off his voice again, "Little ole me? The one who you just determined was 'physically incapable of properly flying more advanced aircraft and who should be limited to aircraft no more demanding than PT-17s? Little ole me assaulted you? Now how could that happen?"

Buffy's fist tightened and I thought she was going to kill him but then she eased up a fraction, "I am going to sit you down, when you get your breath back you will have Picker return those papers. If you do anything else I will snap your neck like a fucking twig!"

I could see the fight go out of Stevens; the indignation and anger was replaced in his eyes by absolute terror. He tried to nod his head jerkily and Buffy eased up, "Are we clear, asshole?"

He nodded frantically and Buffy pulled him off the wall and sat him back down in his seat like he was a sack of potatoes, a little awkward to handle but nothing that wasn't easily within her strength to man handle. She made a little hop and cleared the desk and was standing beside me like nothing had happened. She leaned forward placing her hands on the desk and stared at Stevens as his color slowly returned to something close to normal, "Remember what I said, you wouldn't want to get both you and that little prick killed, now would you?"

He brushed feebly at the front of his shirt, straightening it and his tie some but they were still mussed and the tie was askew. He nodded and tried to say something, his voice caught and he swallowed a couple of times, and then managed to get out, "What the hell are you?"

"A Slayer."

"What?!"

"I'm a Vampire Slayer, but I've retired."

He stared at her in disbelief and she shrugged and straightened up. She glanced around and I saw her gaze settle on a piece of rebar the Major had kept in the office for propping open one of the windows that had a broken counter weight. She darted over to the wall and grabbed it and was back in front of the desk before I could have taken two steps. She held the ½" rebar in front of her and twisted her hands and then started moving one hand in a cranking motion while holding the other steady, I watched as the rebar bent into a tight coil. When she finished it looked like a coiled spring, "Maybe instead of snapping your neck I'll just bend this around it and watch you as you try to get it off, you'd probably be able to struggle for a minute or two before you got too weak. Then you'd just slowly strangle to death."

The purple red color Stevens had when she was nearly strangling him had now completely disappeared; he was now ashen white as he stared at her in terror. "Summers…"

She walked around his desk, still holding the coiled rebar, then opened one of the side drawers in the desk and dropped it in. It hit the bottom of the drawer with a sharp, metallic clang and she shoved the drawer shut. She returned to the front of the desk and said quietly, "At ease, Barb."

I relaxed and she assumed the same stance beside me, "A little souvenir, now get that prick in here."

It took him three tries but he was finally able to yell out "Picker" loud enough that the Sergeant opened the door and stuck his head in, "Yes sir?"

"Sergeant," he managed to croak out, he coughed to clear his throat and then continued a little stronger, "Sergeant, it appears some papers from the Lieutenants' service jackets were improperly secured and have fallen out. Check around your desk and see if they are there."

Picker was clearly surprised, "Sir?"

"Check carefully, sergeant. We wouldn't want an incomplete service jacket leaving this unit." Picker looked at him in stunned silence, finally Stevens said, "Sergeant, check your desk for any missing papers."

Picker shook himself, "Yes, sir."

Less than a minute later he was back with a thick sheaf of papers; he came up to Stevens' desk and held them out, "Uh… Sir… I found these under my desk, they must have fallen out."

He glanced at us standing there and then back to Stevens, "Sergeant, put them back in the service jackets, make sure they're properly secured this time."

"Yes sir." He took the stack of papers and split it into two piles, Buffy's and mine, and then clipped them into our service jackets. When he was finished he stood back up and gazed at us and then back to Stevens. Finally comprehension seemed to come over his face, he leered at us as he said, "Oh, sir, you've found duties more appropriate for the Lieutenants?"

Buffy looked at him and he blanched, "Sergeant, you are so fucking lucky you are too much of a sniveling little worm for me to concern myself about or I'd crush you like a cockroach. Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind."

Picker scuttled out of the door faster than I'd ever seen him move before, he didn't even bother to look at the Colonel for permission to leave. Buffy turned back to the desk and picked up her service jacket and started slowly going through the returned papers. She glanced at me, "Check yours."

I picked up my service jacket and leafed through the papers Picker had put back in. They were all there and I noticed the top sheet was one I had never seen before. I read over it, Jenkins had put me up for a DFC for the work I'd done for the group for the past six months! I looked over at Buffy and saw there was a DFC recommendation on the top of her paperwork also; I wondered why he hadn't mentioned it to us?

Buffy looked up at me, "Did you know about that?"

"No, he never mentioned it."

Buffy shrugged her shoulders and turned back to Stevens' desk. She reached down and picked up a wad of papers, she looked over them briefly, "Looks like we're being transferred to Ferry Command."

I shrugged, it wasn't what we'd been doing for the last six months but it was a hell of a lot better than what we were doing under Stevens. "We can make a go of it."

Stevens had evidently started to recover from his earlier panic, "You two must be a hell of a lay to get that bullshit written about…"

Buffy turned her attention back to Stevens, "You had better hope we never cross paths again because if I ever see you again you are going to wish you had never been born. And if I ever hear about you screwing over a female officer, or a female enlisted, I'm going to find you and turn you over to a monster that just loves to eat human guts one inch at a time."

For some reason I knew she wasn't making an idle threat; and I thought the thing about the monster was probably the truth as well. I think Stevens also realized that she was speaking the truth, his ashen complexion had returned.

Buffy read over our transfer orders for a minute and nodded her head, "We're supposed to report in to the LA Ferry office, they'll assign us from there."

"What about our service records?" The thought of leaving them with Stevens was unsettling, to say the least.

Buffy evidently caught my worry, she turned her attention back to the Colonel, "Stevens, seal our records and attach our orders to them. We'll hand carry them and that way no other papers will go 'missing'."

After a moment Stevens nodded in agreement. He got two large manila envelopes out of his desk and placed one of our service jackets into each envelope. He sealed the envelopes with tape and then signed and dated them across the tape so that they couldn't be opened without breaking the tape and indicating they had been tampered with. Then he attached the orders to the outside of each envelope and placed them back on his desk.

Buffy reached over and took the envelopes from the desk; she handed mine to me, and then reached back and took the efficiency reports Stevens had wanted us to sign. "I think we'll just keep these as souvenirs; maybe General Hitchens would be interested in your opinion of us?"

I could see where the general might have some very pointed questions for an officer who wrote an evaluation like that on an officer that they had been in command of for less than two weeks when the previous CO had written the kind of evaluation we had gotten, along with letters of commendation and being recommended for a DFC.

We took our orders and got out of there, we were packed and on the bus to LA an hour later.

13


	10. Chapter 10: Ferry

I tapped Buffy's thigh and pointed out the windscreen, she glanced up from the manual she was reading and looked where I was pointing; the distant line of land was just visible rising from the ocean. "Nova Scotia?" she asked.

"You're the one that is supposed to be navigating."

"If you flew the course I gave then it would be, but with you flopping around the sky like a wounded turkey…"

"I haven't been flopping around the sky!"

All I got was a grunt in response as she reached down and got the chart out of her Jeppeson case so she could verify our position once we got a little closer to land and could identify some features. The B-26 we were ferrying was a fast plane so it wouldn't be long. It had been a long flight from Baltimore, almost all of it over water. We hadn't been able to get a position check off of Nantucket or Cape Cod because of the massive fog banks to the west of us. We had dodged a couple of thunderheads along the way so we were a little uncertain of our exact position; dead reckoning was only so accurate.

I continued to scan the water around us and spotted a low lying island off our port wing, "Buffy, check the island to port."

She leaned forward in her seat to look around me and examined it for a few moments and then turned her attention to the chart and then back to the island, "Looks like Seal Island so you haven't gotten us too far off course, hold on…" she used her protractor to figure the course to Halifax, "… try 55 degrees magnetic"

"Try?"

She looked at me, "Yeah, try to hold it on that course and we should find the airport…"

I stuck my tongue out at her but banked us slightly to put us on the new course. Soon we were flying up the east coast of a large land mass. After a couple of minutes Buffy let out a sigh, "Well, we aren't lost! That's Nova Scotia; we should be seeing Halifax soon."

Then Buffy switched to the radio and I heard her calling Halifax, "Halifax Control, this is Sierra Tango Four Seven Three"

Almost immediately a male voice responded, "Sierra Tango, this is Halifax Control, be advised this airfield is closed to civilian traffic. Only military and scheduled commercial aircraft are permitted in the area."

I glanced at Buffy and saw the scowl on her face, "Halifax Control, this is United States Army Air Force B-26 Sierra Tango Four Seven Three requesting approach and landing instructions, we are approximately five minutes out."

There was silence for several moments and then the voice came back, "Sierra Tango, Halifax Control, uh… sorry about that… you are cleared for approach and landing, runway 34, no other traffic is in the area at this time, negligible winds, 1 to 5 miles per hour from the northwest, barometer 29.1"

"Halifax Control, Sierra Tango, roger we're cleared first in, negligible winds, barometer 29.1"

"Sierra Tango, Halifax Control, report on final."

I had picked up the airport and as we neared I turned southeast to parallel the runway and check for traffic before turning onto final. The B-26 was a hot twin engine medium bomber that we didn't get to fly a lot, I suspected part of Buffy's bad attitude was the fact she had lost the coin toss and was sitting in the right seat, the copilot's seat, while I had the pilot's seat. We both loved flying the B-26, even though it had a bad reputation and had acquired the nick name of the 'Widowmaker'. She wasn't really a bad aircraft, you just had to fly her hot and then she was a dream, but she landed a lot faster than most aircraft and too many pilots came in too slow - she didn't like to fly slow.

Five minutes later we were on the ground taxing behind a 'Follow Me' jeep over to a parking area near the airport terminal. I brought her to a stop as directed and we shut her down and then completed filling out the logs, Buffy completed the aircraft log and her own flight log while I concentrated on my flight log; since I had been flying most of the time I hadn't kept my log up to date during the flight. Once done I looked around outside of the plane, a couple ground crewmen were finishing securing the plane with chocks and tie downs and I saw an officer, I assumed the receiving officer, walking across the tarmac toward us. Other than that the place looked deserted although it was crowded with Army aircraft of all types, I guess late Sunday afternoon was not a busy time. I tapped Buffy on the shoulder, "About ready?"

"Yeah, be done in just a sec."

I reached up and popped the hatch release above my head and opened the hatch, by standing on my seat it was easy to climb out of the aircraft. A second later Buffy opened the hatch above her seat, she reached behind our seats and got our gear bags and Jeppeson cases and handed them up to me and then climbed out, we walked aft a couple of feet to where the ground crew had rigged a ladder and I climbed down from the plane.

Once I was on the ground Buffy threw our bags and the Jeppeson cases down to me and then climbed down herself, we walked up to the receiving officer, a Captain, and came to attention as I saluted, "Lieutenants Thompson and Summers, delivering B-26 41473 to Halifax as ordered."

The Captain stared at us in shock for a moment then shook himself and returned my salute, "Afternoon ladies, haven't seen any like you before."

"Raised in a monastery sir?" Buffy snarked.

"Uh, no," confusion clear on his face, then comprehension, "No, I meant women pilots up here."

Before Buffy could come up with some other biting remark I put in, "They've just cleared us for flight operations outside the US, you'll probably be seeing more of us now, sir."

"Oh, okay."

I handed him the clipboard with the aircraft receipt, "Would you sign for the aircraft sir?"

He nodded and signed the forms, I took one copy and stuffed it in my case and gave him the rest of the copies along with the rest of the paperwork for the aircraft, "Can you tell us where the op center is so we can check in and get our quarters?"

"Uh, I don't know what they'll do with you…"

"Typical," Buffy said, "You'd think someone…"

I slugged her, hard, on the arm, before she said something she would later regret. She was still pissed about what had happened to her Top Gun school and she wanted to take something out on somebody. I had also learned in the little over a year we had been together that she was not very tolerant of the prejudices against women that were prevalent and she could get herself into more trouble than it was worth without much thought. I had also learned that I had to hit the damned Slayer hard in order to distract her; I guess the force I hit her with startled the Captain, "Lieutenant!"

"She's dense, like a mule you know, you have to hit them with a two by four to get their attention."

Buffy scowled at me but then grinned, "Don't worry, sir. I'm used to it by now; she has to vent her frustration somewhere since I'm always beating her."

"Buffy!"

"Barb!"

I gave up and turned back to the Captain, "Ops center sir?"

He pointed to a large building a hundred yards down the flight line, "In there, just follow the signs."

I raised my hand in salute, Buffy following along, "By your leave, sir?"

He nodded and returned the salutes, "Dismissed, Lieutenants."

We grabbed our stuff and walked over to the building the Captain had pointed out and followed the signs into the operations center. Like the rest of the airfield the place seemed deserted, we walked up to a long counter; I was looking around when Buffy's voice rang out, "HEY! ANYBODY HOME?"

A moment later I heard a chair scrape and a grizzled old sergeant came out of one of the doors behind the counter, he started as he saw us, and then came over to the counter, "Uh, sorry miss, wasn't expecting anybody in today."

"Well, we're here sergeant. We need to sign in and we'll need quarters for tonight or until we get a flight out."

"Uh, yes ma'am? You're attached to?"

"We're ferry pilots; we just brought in a B-26." His eyes went wide with shock, "Get used to it; there will be a lot more of us around."

"Yes, ma'am," he looked around, confused, like he couldn't figure out what to do, then comprehension came to him and he reached under the counter and brought out a clip board, "The base commander wants all ferry pilots to fill out this form in case something comes up and they need to reassign flights. I'll contact the duty officer and find out about your quarters while you fill it out."

I looked at the form on the clip board he handed to me, it simply asked for name, rank, and aircraft types you were qualified for so I filled in it in, "Thompson, B.; 1st Lt.; B-25, B-26, P-36, P-38, P-39, P-40, C-47." Then handed the clip board to Buffy, she filled in her information, the same as mine, and then put it back on the counter.

The sergeant was on the phone and not seeming to accomplish much, "Sergeant?"

He covered the mouth piece before answering me, "Yes, ma'am?"

"If you can just certify 'no quarters available' we'll go into town and find a hotel, I assume they have such a thing in this town?"

He nodded his head and talked on the phone for another minute and then hung up and came back, "The Major said that would work best, I can call the duty driver and he'll give you a ride into town and you can get a taxi in the morning to get back out here. All ferry pilots are supposed to be in the Ops Center by 5AM for their assignments, there's bus service but I don't think it's running that early."

"Okay, sergeant, we'll be back on time." I held out a copy of my travel orders and showed him where to fill in the information, it was something we were used to doing since most of the military bases we flew into didn't have accommodations for transient, for that matter any, female officers. He filled out the required information and signed for the missing Major and did the same to Buffy's orders. Then he was back on the phone to get the duty driver.

He finished with his second call and came back and grabbed the clip board and glanced at what we had filled in, his eyes went round again, "You're qualified for all these types?"

Buffy nodded, "And several more, but you wouldn't have any of them up here."

I asked, "Is there a head where we can change?"

"I think there's a ladies bathroom over in the civilian terminal…"

Buffy snorted, "I'm not walking all the way over there, it doesn't look like there's anybody around, where's your head?"

He pointed to a door off to the side of the large room, and Buffy grabbed her bags and headed for it, I grabbed mine and followed after her, I looked back over my shoulder at him "We'll be out in a minute, you don't need it do you?"

He shook his head no and I followed Buffy into the head. I got out of the parachute that was still hanging on me and then took off my leather jacket, flying boots, pants and shirt. Then I stripped off the long underwear I wore, cockpit heaters were not always reliable. I opened my gear bag to get out a fresh uniform. Buffy was adamant about avoiding skirts as much as possible, she said they were for dressing up and not for work as far as she was concerned, so she refused to pack any in her gear bag. Instead she had gotten, and convinced me to get, some nice men's uniform pants and shirts and then we had them tailored to fit us. Those plus our leather flying jackets and an overseas cap completed her version of a well uniformed female officer, so far no one had called us on it. Probably because no one knew what the hell female officers were supposed to wear, at least not on the military bases we were on.

We used the facilities and then stowed our flying clothes in our gear bag and collected the rest of the stuff and headed back out. By that time another sergeant had shown up, the first one turned to us as we got back to the counter, "Your driver is here, ma'am."

"Thank you, sergeant," I held up the parachute I was carrying in one hand, "where should we check in this gear?"

"Uh, No one's in the equipment building now. I guess I can call the duty officer and find out…"

"Never mind, we'll just keep it with us," I turned to the new man, "Is there a decent hotel in town?"

"Yes ma'am, several that used to cater to the tourist traffic, not much of that anymore so they always have rooms available."

"Well, take us to a nice one, preferably not too far away."

It was a ten minute ride to the hotel, an early twenties three story brick building by appearances. The driver let us off in front, no doorman but I suspected they didn't have the business any more to justify one because there was a porter's station by the door. We walked into the deserted lobby and over to the registration counter, Buffy looked around, "Is this entire town deserted?"

I rang the bell; I was beginning to agree with her, I don't think I had seen more than half a dozen cars and even fewer pedestrians on the ride into town. In a moment an elderly man in a grey suit came out of a back room, "Can I help you gentle… Uh, ladies?"

"We need a room, preferably two beds, for the night, maybe longer."

"Oh, uh, all our rooms have only one bed. But we could add a cot."

"How big?" Buffy asked.

"Uh, how big what?"

"How big is the bed? King, Queen?"

I tried to kick her ankle; she was using terms from her time again, "Uh… I don't understand, Miss?"

Before she could speak again I spoke up, "Is the bed a double or single?"

"Oh, they're all doubles, of the best quality."

Before I could say anything Buffy turned to me, "We share or you get the cot. I'm not going to sleep on one of those da… darn things if I don't have to."

"We'll take a room and a cot, you'll take US currency?"

He nodded, "It seems like that's about all we get nowadays."

"Is there a restaurant you would recommend nearby?"

He nodded, "Just down the street."

We dropped our stuff off in our room and had a leisurely dinner, it was quite good and we stuck with the local fish so we didn't have to try to deal with rationing issues. We returned to the hotel and got a decent night's sleep, the cot wasn't that bad.

5


	11. Chapter 11: Crossing

In the morning we were up early, checked out of the hotel and back out to the base before the sun was even a hint on the eastern horizon. The operations room was much more active, it was almost a madhouse but we still attracted a lot of strange looks. Just as we were coming in someone yelled out, "Silence!"

We stood by the door as a Major hopped up on the counter, "Listen up people!" When the room was quiet he continued, "All pilot assignments are being reviewed and updated, they'll be posted shortly, until then nobody can tell you anything so just stand by!"

A 2nd Lieutenant, brand new by appearances, was standing near us and looking curiously at us, "What's going on?"

"They must have served some bad food in the officer's mess last night, half the people that ate there are sicker than dogs this morning. They have to rearrange the flights based on priority and who's available. What are you ladies doing here?"

"Finding out our assignments, what about you?"

He stared at me in shock, and then at Buffy, she pointed to the wings on her leather jacket and grinned at him like a Cheshire cat. "What on earth can you fly?"

Her grin slipped into a scowl, "Anything you can buddy-boy, and probably a hell of a lot better!"

"You have got to be kidding!"

Buffy's scowl increased and she pointed to the silver bar on her epaulettes, "No, and Lieutenant it's 'you have to be kidding, sir!'"

"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am."

"Buffy, settle," I turned to him, looking at his leather jacket I saw his name stenciled under the wings, "It's okay Lieutenant Franklin, she's always a little testy in the morning before she's had her coffee."

I took Buffy's arm and directed her over to the coffee kiosk where we each got a mug and a couple of donuts and then found a corner to sit and wait for them to get things sorted out. Buffy went back to reading her manual and I dug out the pilot's manual for the B-17 I was studying. I didn't know if I would ever have the opportunity but if I did I wanted to be ready to qualify on the big bomber if I had the chance.

Fifteen minutes later and the Major came around the counter and posted several sheets of paper on a big bulletin board; it was immediately swarmed by the waiting officers. Buffy and I kept our seats until most had cleared out and then walked over. I was scanning the sheets looking for our names but hadn't spotted them yet when Buffy grabbed my arm, tight enough I felt some Slayer behind it, and pulled me off to the side. I followed without resisting, I knew better; once we were alone I asked her, "What's the problem? And lighten up a little!"

She eased her grip as she looked up at me, "I want to go, will you go along or do you want to go back to the hotel and call in sick?"

"Buffy, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Didn't you see our names?"

"No."

"P-38s, 2nd element of a flight of four."

"Yeah?" We'd ferried P-38s all over the States.

"To Scotland!"

I stared at her; we weren't supposed to fly outside of North America; at least that was the general understanding, but to get the chance to fly the Atlantic? Yeah, I could see that, I could also see us getting into a world of shit, "We could get in bad trouble, Buffy."

"We're just following orders."

"Yeah, but we won't get past the flight line, as soon as they see us they'll kick us out."

"The flight is supposed to leave in half an hour, let's just get in our gear and get in the planes. We're 2nd element, flight lead has to deal with the flight plan and the rest of the paperwork; he probably won't be there until we're ready to go."

Reluctantly I nodded agreement, ferrying across the North Atlantic was the big time, especially in a fighter even if it was a twin engine bird. We went back to get our gear, I checked the board as I walked by and found our names on the sheet titled "Overseas", and noted the aircraft number I was assigned to. We grabbed our gear and headed out of the room, Buffy taking the lead. She walked down several hallways until she found a deserted office, we went in and she shut and locked the door.

We quickly stripped and pulled on long underwear and then I put on the shirt and pants I'd worn the day before. I slipped off the shoes I had on and pulled on the heavy fur lined flying boots, then bloused the bottoms of the pants over the tops of the boots with a couple of condoms, a trick a marine flying sergeant had taught us. It would be cold at altitude and P-38s weren't known for having great cockpit heaters. I started to slip into the parachute when I saw Buffy pulling out her old flying coveralls; we didn't usually wear them on ferry flights. She pulled them on over the rest of her clothes, turning herself into something of a butterball but covering the curves of her body.

I dumped the parachute and dug out my coveralls and drew them on, then put the parachute on over that and checked that everything was secure. Fortunately we hadn't turned them in the night before so we didn't need to go by the equipment room. Buffy was digging around in her gear bag and pulled out a leather flying helmet, we usually didn't bother with them and just flew with our officer's cap. She pulled it on and carefully tucked her hair into it. Realizing what she was planning I dug around in my bag and found mine. As I was putting mine on she walked over to me, "Any loose strands?"

I looked her over closely, and shook my head, "No, don't see anything."

She reached up and I felt her pull on a length of my hair, then she twisted it and slipped it under the helmet and nodded to me, "You look good."

She went back to her bag and started rummaging again, in a moment she had her oxygen mask out and hung it around her neck so it obscured the lower half of her face. I got out mine and followed suit. With our flying goggles low on our foreheads there wasn't much of our faces visible. We stowed the rest of our gear and looked around to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything and then left the office and headed to the flight line.

Once outside I looked around and saw four Lightnings a couple hundred yards down the flight line, we walked down the line and as we approached a couple of ground crewmen got up to meet us. They trailed along behind as we found the planes assigned to us and stowed our bags in the small luggage compartment. I went through my Jeppeson case and got out the charts for the North Atlantic and Scotland and put them in the coverall pocket on the side of my thigh along with my navigation instruments, then put the case in the compartment and secured the door.

I climbed up on the wing and leaned into the cockpit through the open canopy and checked that everything was secure and then got down and pre-flighted the plane. I could see Buffy was doing the same, as I swung myself back up on the wing the ground crewman's curiosity finally overcame him, "Sir?"

Speaking as deeply as I could without going overboard I replied, "I'm the ferry pilot."

"Sir, what happened to Captain Everly?"

"Food poisoning, I hear. Just got the assignment," fortunately I remembered the lead pilot's name from the sheet, "Colonel Miller should be here shortly, I know he wants to get going as soon as possible. We've already wasted too much time with the cluster-fuck this morning."

I looked at the eastern horizon; it was just beginning to lighten as dawn was breaking. I wanted to be in the plane and all settled down before daylight made seeing easier, the harsh light of the floods glaring down from the hanger behind the planes gave sufficient light to work but created glare and deep shadows. The poor lighting and simply the unexpectedness of our presence meant no one had realized we were women, at least not yet, and if we were to get away with this we had to make sure no one did.

I stepped into the cockpit and settled down into the seat and started strapping myself in. The ground crewman was at the side of the cockpit handing me straps and connections, I had myself strapped in and hooked up to the radios and oxygen and started going over the pre-start checklist when he spoke again, "Sir, you've got two external drop tanks, 250 gallons each, and 500 rounds in each of the inboard MGs and 40 rounds of 20mm, we don't do full ammo loads because of the weight. When do you want us to take the safety pins out?"

I covered up the shock of realizing I was going to be flying an armed aircraft and that we were heading for a combat area which made that prudent, I thought quickly, "We'll wait until the Colonel's here."

"Yes, sir."

I continued with my cockpit checks and the ground crewman sat on the wing just forward of the cockpit with his legs hanging over the edge. A couple of minutes later I heard him call softly, "Sir!"

I looked up and saw him pointing down the flight line; two pilots were walking toward us, dressed in flying gear with parachutes hanging from them. As they got closer I could see the silver eagles of a Colonel on the color points of the older man, with a start I recognized the younger officer, he was the 2nd Lieutenant we had talked to earlier that morning.

Both of them came up between the nose and my port engine, the Colonel yelled up, "Lieutenant Thompson?"

"Yes, sir!" He handed a sheet of paper to the ground crew still sitting on my wing who handed it on back to me, I saw it was the flight plan indicating the courses and estimated times for each leg of the flight, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Start engines in five minutes, Lieutenant, you'll be Red 3."

"Yes, sir!"

They walked away, the younger officer heading for one of the other planes and the Colonel heading for Buffy's plane. He was there for a brief moment, repeating what he had told me I guessed and then he was heading for his plane.

I called out to the ground crewman that was still on my wing, "Sergeant, pull the safeties."

"Yes, sir," he turned and yelled down "Dumbrowski!"

Another ground crewman hauled a small platform over beside the nose of my plane and the ground crewman on my wing dropped off and then climbed onto it, he released the latches and opened the large hatch covering the gun compartment, Dumbrowski held it up for him as he reached inside. A moment later he was out and held up three red cloth streamers and I nodded verifying that I had seen him remove the safety pins from the guns. He closed the panel and secured the latches, I leaned out of the cockpit, "Double check those latches, Sergeant."

He turned and grinned at me, then went back over each latch insuring they were secure, "All secure, Lieutenant!"

"Thanks, Sergeant. Let's get this thing started!"

They hopped off the platform and Dumbrowski hauled it away while the Sergeant waved another ground crewman over, he was pushing a large fire extinguisher mounted on wheels and positioned himself outboard of the port engine. The Sergeant moved over next to him and then swung his hand over his head in a circular motion and yelled up, "All clear!"

I checked the port engine magneto was off and hit the starter button, the high-pitched whine of the starter rose and then the engine turned over several times, the propeller jerking around, and then I released the starter. Having verified the engine was clear and gotten some oil moving in it, I turned the magnetos back on and primed the engine and hit the starter a second time. This time when the engine turned over there was a loud 'bang' and a puff of black smoke, followed by more bangs and then it caught and the explosions turned into an ear-shattering roar, the propeller turned into a silver disk. The ground crew moved over to the starboard engine and we repeated the procedure, it was soon roaring along with its mate.

I finished the pre-takeoff checks and the engines were warmed up and in the green, I throttled back until they were idling smoothly. I glanced around and saw Buffy had her engines started and the other two planes were just starting theirs. Suddenly a voice was in my ear, "Red lead to Red flight, radio check!"

"Red two, loud and clear." I heard the young officer's voice.

"Red three, loud and clear." I sent out.

"Red four, loud and clear." I heard Buffy's distinct voice and thought to myself, we're toast now!

Instead I heard the Colonel's voice again, "Halifax Control, Red flight, four P-38s, ready for departure."

"Red flight, Halifax control, you're clear to taxi, first to take-off on runway 34; advise when you're on the apron. Winds light, 5 to 10 mile per hour from the north-west, barometer 28.9"

"Halifax control, Red flight, roger."

I set my altimeter and checked that my brakes were locked and signaled to the ground crew to remove the chocks, two men darted under my wings and were soon back out holding the wheel chocks up so I could see them. I nodded to them and reached up and pulled the canopy closed and locked it down. "Red lead, Red flight, let's roll."

I saw the first two planes moving out onto the taxi way and waited several seconds and then released the brakes and added a touch more throttle and pulled out behind them. I looked to my right and a little behind me and saw Buffy following along, a few minutes later we came to a stop just off the end of runway. "Halifax control, Red flight, on the apron and ready for takeoff."

"Red flight, Halifax control, your cleared, have a nice flight."

"Halifax control, Red flight, we're rolling."

The two lead planes pulled onto the runway and then turned and were racing down the long strip of concrete. I released my brakes and turned on to the runway, I glanced over to Buffy and saw her give me a quick wave and turned my attention ahead of us. I shoved the throttles forward and felt the heavy pressure as the plane accelerated rapidly, the air speed indicator came to life and I felt the controls start to respond. I held her on the runway until we had plenty of speed and then pulled lightly back on the wheel; she rose quickly into the lightening sky. I retracted the landing gear and flaps and cleaned her up and then checked around.

I spotted the other two planes a mile or so in front of us and several thousand feet higher, I kept the throttles wide open and we rapidly closed on them. As we got near the Colonel's voice came over the radio, "Red three, let's keep the formation spread, left finger four, 100 and 200."

I eased in until I was 200 yards off his left side and just slightly behind him, Buffy was another 100 yards to my left and a little behind me while his wingman was 100 yards to his right, the four planes positioned like the fingertips of the left hand. Once everyone was in position he lead us in a gentle bank until we were on course for our first leg, we leveled out at 10,000 feet a couple of minutes later and I trimmed the plane for the long flight.

The flight was long and boring, the steady roar of the engines on either side of me, the chill in the cockpit, and the endless ocean below us and the clear blue sky above us lulling us into a dream state. Suddenly my plane was bouncing and there were heavy thuds of explosions and the bursting black puffs of flak near our planes. I looked down and far below us I could see dozens of ships, several with gray puffs of smoke near them as they shot at us. We turned north to avoid the convoy that had appeared below us, several of the ships still shooting at us even as we pulled out of range. The trigger happy gunners on the ships below sure woke me up.

We settled back on our course but I was keeping a constant eye on the ocean below us, I didn't want another incident like the last, when Buffy's voice broke the radio silence we had maintained since our departure, "Red leader, Red four, bogie, 10 o'clock low."

There was silence for several moments, I looked to the left of our course and down but couldn't see anything, "Red four, Red leader, bogie position?"

"10 o'clock, maybe a little toward 11, halfway between our level and the horizon."

Following her more explicit directions I thought I could see a small black dot, "Red four, are you sure that's a bogie?"

"Yes, sir, I've been following it for a couple of minutes, it's heading the opposite direction we're going." How the hell had Buffy seen it a couple of minutes ago? I could just make it out now.

"Red three, you and four investigate but do not engage, we'll provide high cover."

"Roger," I answered as I turned toward the distant black dot, "Red four, Red three – you take lead, you spotted it."

"Roger, Red three." Buffy answered, then her plane was pulling in front of me and I fell into the wing man's position. She lowered her nose and went into a shallow dive, our speed increasing as the black dot began to resolve itself into another aircraft. Then Buffy's voice cracked over the radio again, "Bandit confirmed, it's a Condor."

I could just make out the other plane now but Buffy's identification looked correct, the dark mottled green form was a Focke-Wolf FW-200, a four engine patrol bomber the German's used to find convoys for their U-boats. "Red four, Red lead, break off!"

"Red lead, what about our friends?"

"What?"

"He's going to spot them before too long!" Buffy was correct, given the course the bomber was on he was going to spot that convoy before too much longer, then he would radio the convoy's position to every U-boat in the area.

There was silence for several seconds, finally the Colonel responded, "Red four, Red lead, be careful, we'll stay as top cover."

I only had time for one thought to streak through my mind, 'Jesus H. Christ, now what had Buffy gotten me into?' Then I was slamming the throttle forward to stay with her, she pulled up slightly to keep us above the Condor, then when we were less than half a mile from it she rolled onto her side and dove for it. We were coming down on the Condor from its rear quarter, diving at an angle of about thirty degrees and closing on it quickly.

We were still five or six hundred yards away when I first noticed the puffs of grey smoke and sparkles coming from the dorsal turret, then tracers were flashing by my canopy. Then Buffy opened fire and I could see hits sparkling along the fuselage of the Condor, she started just aft of the dorsal turret and then walked her fire forward. There was sparkling glitter of shattered glass as her fire marched over the turret and it stopped firing at us, her fire continued forward until it was centered at the wing root, then I saw the heavier flashes as she added 20mm cannon fire to her two machine guns.

At the last second she pulled up and we passed just aft of the Condor's wing, she whipped us around in almost a complete loop before she rolled out and started a second pass on the Condor. Her fire was hitting the fuselage from the opposite side, just above the wing when there was a massive explosion and the Condor disintegrated, my plane was thrown violently upward from the concussion and I had several frantic moments trying to regain control, when I had the plane flying again I looked around for Buffy. I spotted her a couple hundred feet below me, her plane spinning awkwardly and then the nose dropped and she regained control. "Red four, Red three, 500 above and aft"

"Red three, roger," Buffy pulled her plane around and I slowed, waiting for her to form back up with me, while she caught up I looked around and saw the rest of Red flight high above us, circling so we didn't lose them.

As soon as Buffy was back with me I started climbing, "Red lead, Red three, we'll reform on you."

"Red three, roger, nice shooting Red four, I'll sign the confirmation when we get in."

"Roger, Red lead." Buffy's voice was grim as she answered but I could also hear a note of satisfaction in it. We climbed back to our cruise altitude, the Colonel and his wing man were back on course and we slowly drew up to them and then settled back into our loose formation. I glanced over my shoulder at Buffy and gave her a thumbs-up, she waved back at me.

Well, I thought, it had been fun while it lasted. I didn't think we would really spend too much time in the brig, but I knew our careers were over. But maybe with our reputation we could get some kind of flying job with one of the manufacturers, if the Army didn't completely black ball us. Of course the alternative was they would want to cover it up and we'd spend the rest of our lives at some two person observation post on the Arctic Circle that got re-supplied once a year.

I was still musing possible scenarios for the coming debacle when I saw land slowly rising in front of us, as we got closer I realized it was spreading to both sides of us, which wasn't where it was supposed to be. Our planned flight should be taking us north of Ireland with the Scottish mainland to the east, we would cross a series of narrow peninsulas until we reached the area of Glasgow where our destination was, but this appeared to be solid land in front of us. We continued southeast as we crossed over the coast line.

I could see an occasional small village or town but for the most part the land looked wild, there were none of the deep lochs cutting into the land. We hadn't crossed over any large island groups which we should have before we reached the Scottish mainland if we had been on our planned course. I continued scanning the charts, trying to identify something as we crossed the land. Then I saw open water up ahead, I looked at the coastline we were approaching and saw a small town split by a river, the configuration seemed to match something on the chart and I checked it closer, "Red lead, Red three, I think that's Helmsdale we're crossing over."

After a few moments he replied, "Good catch, Red three, I think you're right, if so we should be seeing more land in just a minute."

A couple minutes later another coastline appeared in front of us, I peered at it as we approached it and identified Buckie in front of us and Lossiemouth to port. At least we knew where we were, but we were a long way from Glasgow. I checked my fuel gauges and did a quick mental calculation; it was going to be close.

"Red flight, Red lead, looks like we got blown quite a ways east, figure about another hour."

"Red lead, Red four, I'm going to need something a lot closer than that, figure I've got maybe 15 minutes left and then me and this nice birdie are going down, whether we want to or not."

I started looking at the chart, "Red lead, there's RAF Dyce at Aberdeen, that's a lot closer, it should be within Red fours range."

"Got it, we'll head for there and get some gas."

A couple minutes later we were circling the airfield, there was no response from the tower, we probably didn't have the right frequency although they should have been monitoring the standard frequencies. We flew the standard landing pattern and couldn't spot any other aircraft in the vicinity, the Colonel turned onto the final approach and as he neared the end of the runway two red flares rose up directly in front of him, "Red flight, break off, something must be wrong!"

I pushed in my throttles and started to climb away when Buffy's voice came over the radio, "Sorry Red lead, no can do."

"Red four, I said break off!"

"Can't, sir, I've only got one engine running and I don't know how long that will last."

I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Buffy drifting down toward the runway, her port prop feathered and motionless. I watched, splitting my attention between Red lead and looking back at her, she settled gently on the runway, little puffs of grey smoke coming from her tires as she settled down. I looked at my gas gauges.

7


	12. Chapter 12: Dyce

I didn't have enough fuel to get to Glasgow and we had been waved off at Dyce but Buffy was down and appeared okay. I could just make out some ground personnel moving around her plane where she had parked it in front of a hanger. I decided I really didn't have a choice, "Red lead, Red three, I don't have enough fuel to get to Glasgow now, I'm going to set down here."

"Roger, Red three."

I banked back toward the airfield and was just turning onto final when Buffy's voice came back on the radio, "Red lead, get down here quick!"

"Red four, what's the problem?"

"Not on the air!"

Then I was touching down, as soon as I was slowed down I pulled off the runway and taxied over next to Buffy's plane, ground crew were swarming over it. I could see they were refueling from a couple of small fuel trucks and more fuel trucks were pulling up next to me. I could also see Buffy was out of her plane and had both panels over the gun bays open and had four or five ground crew on either side peering into the bays. Other ground crewmen were under her plane positioning bomb carts under her drop tanks.

I could see more ground crewmen were moving up to my plane; I popped the canopy just as one of the crewmen climbed up on my wing, "What the hell is going on?"

"Sir, the Germans are going to be here in less than half an hour, you have to get back in the air fast! Are your guns safed?"

I glanced down at the gun controls and switched off the power to the guns, "Yes, why?"

"The other pilot said you had less than a full load of ammo, we're going to load you up on ammo and give you as much petrol as we can pump in the next fifteen minutes."

I nodded in agreement, "Thanks!"

Ground crew were setting up oil drums on either side of my plane, then I heard another voice yelling up and the ground crewman on my wing turned to me, "Drop your external tanks."

I reached down and pulled the levers on either side of my seat and heard the soft 'thunk' as the two tanks released. I could also hear the rush of gasoline starting into the tanks in the wings on either side of my cockpit. Buffy was running over to my plane now, drawing a couple of the ground crewmen with her. When she reached the side of my plane she hopped up on one of the drums and started popping the latches to my gun panels. As soon as she got the panel open she turned to the ground crewman, "Remember, outboard MGs only, inboards have a full load, plus the cannon ammo. Got it?"

He nodded, "Yes, sir!"

She hopped down and he climbed up on the barrel and started opening the latches on the ammo boxes. Buffy watched him for a second, her helmet and oxygen mask still concealing her features, but I couldn't understand how no one was realizing she was a woman. I guess they just didn't expect it so they didn't consider it. Then she turned away and ducked under my wing, I turned and saw her come out from under the aft edge, she was heading away from her plane. I yelled down to her, "Summers! Where are you going?"

She turned around and looked up at me, "The damn bushes, where do you think!?"

Which reminded me I had been sitting in the plane for the last nine hours, I quickly unstrapped myself and climbed out of the cockpit, stiff from all the sitting. I hopped off the wing and trotted after her. Once we were done relieving ourselves I turned to Buffy, "How long do you think you can keep this up?"

She shrugged her shoulders dismissively, "No idea, a couple minutes or a couple hours, certainly not beyond that."

I nodded and we headed back to our planes. The Colonel and his wingman were down and parked, their planes were beside mine and Buffy headed in that direction. Crewmen were swarming over the two planes as Buffy and I came along side the Colonel's plane. Buffy looked up at him, "The Brits tell you what's going on?"

"Yeah," He looked at Buffy a little quizzically, "Summers?"

"Yes, sir."

"Nice shooting, now saddle back up so we can get the hell out of here."

Buffy nodded and headed for her plane, I trailed along beside her and then peeled off to get to mine. I climbed back up on the wing and into the cockpit; the ground crewman that had been on the wing since I had arrived was still there. I climbed into the cockpit and got hooked back up, then he leaned over, "You're fully armed," he handed me the two safety pins from the formerly empty guns, "you've got about 400 gallons – imperial gallons - of petrol."

"Thanks!"

I heard the roar of a starting engine and glanced toward the sound, Buffy's port engine was running and her starboard engine turned and then caught, it's roar adding to the din from her other engine. I glanced at the ground crewman who was on my wing and he hopped off and ran over until he was clear of my plane's props, then he gave the wind it up signal. I did an abbreviated check while I slammed and locked the canopy and then hit the port engine start button, moments later I had both engines going. The ground crew was dragging the last of their stuff clear of the other two planes in our flight.

Two minutes later Red lead was taxing back toward the runway, I followed him with Buffy on my wing, a minute later we were climbing away from the airfield. Once Buffy and I joined up with the Colonel and his wingman he banked until we were on a southwesterly course while we continued to climb away from Aberdeen.

A minute later Buffy's voice came over the radio, "Red lead, Red four, the German's are coming from the other direction!"

After a moment of silence and the Colonel responded, "There are only four of us, besides you're only ferry pilots!"

"And that's relevant because?" she snapped back.

There was silence for a minute and then, "Red flight, Red lead, check your guns, let's go boys!"

There was a click of another mike and a snort, I knew it was Buffy but she didn't add anything else. Continuing our climb we banked around until we were headed back to Aberdeen, I thought for a moment and then made my decision, "Red lead, Red three."

"Red three, go."

"Red three and Red four are swapping positions."

There was a slight pause and then "Roger that."

I throttled back slightly and then looked over at Buffy, she was shaking her head violently, I shook my head in turn and then pointed at her and then pointed out in front of me. She looked at me for a minute and then nodded and pulled in ahead of me and then dipped below me so I wouldn't be caught in her wake as she skidded across while I drifted further out to give her room to pull into position off of the Colonel's wing.

A couple minutes later Buffy's voice was back on the radio, "Red flight, bandits twelve o'clock low!"

I looked ahead of us and down a little and saw a cluster of black dots on the horizon, there appeared to be a couple of dozen of them, then the Colonel sounded off. "Tally ho!"

A moment later Buffy added, "More bandits, twelve o'clock high!"

"They're the fighters!" The Colonel responded, "Red four, take your element and keep them off of us while we go for the bombers!"

I looked ahead and above us and saw another cluster of black dots, although these appeared smaller than the first group. Buffy steepened her climb and I followed along, shoving the throttles all the way forward to keep up with her. I constantly switched my attention from keeping position on Buffy to the black dots that were level and then a little below us, and checking all around us to make sure we didn't get jumped.

We were a couple of thousand feet above the bandits when four of them peeled off and headed down, I guessed they had spotted the other element but they hadn't spotted us yet. Buffy banked over and headed down after them, using one of the Lightning's great advantages, its dive speed. The distance between us and the German fighters, I could see they were Me-109s, closed rapidly. They were in a finger-four formation like we had been in and we were sweeping in on them from the side and a little above them, Buffy was curving our path around to bring us in on their rear quarter. I kept checking above us but so far we hadn't been spotted.

Suddenly the enemy fighters seemed to rush toward us; they were no longer black dots but airplanes we were closing on. I saw tracers leaving the nose of Buffy's plane as she opened fire, the rounds went straight to the second plane, hits sparkling in a dense pack just behind the cockpit and then moving forward and down until they were smashing into the wing root. There was a burst of flame and then the wing folded back and the 109 fell off in a steep dive.

We pulled up slightly and Buffy was firing again, now we were level with the lead fighter and closing rapidly on its rear quarter. Buffy's machine gun rounds were smashing into the side of the fighter, hits sparkling over it, then there were heavier flashes as she started firing her canon. We were almost on the other plane when she pulled into a steep bank and dove away, keeping behind the other two planes of the flight. As I went past her second victim I saw the pilot flip the plane on its back as the canopy came off, then he was dropping out of the cockpit, leaving his doomed plane.

We dove away for only a few seconds when Buffy pulled us up in a steep zoom climb, I clung to my position on her tail as we climbed toward the other enemy fighters. I looked back and saw the other two planes of the flight we; or more correctly she, had just attacked diving away from us. Buffy's voice cut through the roar of my racing engines, "Red three, get to the port side!"

I cut under her to comply with her directions, moving from being off her right wing to being off her left. We were still climbing rapidly when Buffy rolled onto her back and pulled her plane down back into a dive. I followed along, just trying to stay in position. I was looking around, trying to spot enemy aircraft and failing miserably when her voice came again, "Red three, target acquisition… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…"

I started looking through my gun sight as she counted down and as she screamed "NOW!" there was a German fighter slipping into the outer ring, I increased the pressure on the wheel a little more to bring my nose up and the lighted pip was on him and I pulled the machine gun trigger and saw the tracers spewing out in front of me and sparkling hits all on his left wing. I applied a little rudder and triggered the canon and felt the heavy recoil and saw my fire moving across his wing and into his fuselage. His canopy shattered in a glistening spray of broken glass and he suddenly pulled up. I jerked my plane to the side as he hung on his propeller for a moment and then fell off and started spinning earthward trailing a long flame.

I jerked myself out of my revere and looked around, another smoky pyre marked Buffy's victim but she was nowhere to be seen. I craned my neck, frantically searching for her when I saw another plane closing in on me from behind. I jerked the wheel to the side and rolled away and started to dive when Buffy's voice came to me, "Red three, it's me!"

I looked again and saw the distinctive silhouette of a Lightning and throttled back, I continued my roll until I was level, Buffy pulled in front and I resumed my position on her wing. Suddenly she rolled away and started a steep dive, "Come ON!"

I followed after her and looked ahead, I could see another pair of Lightnings making a pass on a formation of bombers and then I saw the smaller 109s closing rapidly on them. We were closing on all of them when Buffy called out, "Red lead, break left! Break left!"

The 109s were almost on him but he wasn't responding, "RED LEAD! BREAK LEFT! BREAK LEFT!" Buffy screamed at the top of her lungs.

Suddenly the Lightning banked sharply to the left, Buffy rolled violently and I desperately followed her maneuver, we were almost on them, "Barb, I'm going to be out of position, you take him… NOW!"

In front of me was a 109, I smashed both the MG and canon triggers at the same time and saw hits smashing into him, the fire so concentrated the 109 seemed to stagger under the onslaught and then there was an explosion between the cockpit and engine and the engine separated from the fighter. I shoved the wheel forward and dove behind the disintegrating plane.

A moment later Buffy's voice was sounding again, "Red flight, form on me! Form on me!"

I looked around and saw her climbing slowly a little way ahead of me; I shoved the throttles forward and quickly pulled into position on her right wing. I glanced over and saw the Colonel forming on her left wing and Red two outboard of him, "Red two, other side, behind me and 100 feet above!"

I saw him complying, the tone of her voice not brooking any argument from anyone. We were still climbing and as Red two got into position Buffy accelerated and steepened her climb, "Keep up with me people!"

I shoved my throttles forward again and held my position on her wing, "Red flight, half roll right!"

We all rolled together and then she was leading us in a dive slowly steepening it as she kept us upside down.

"Half roll right!" We rolled again, "Targets!"

In front of us were four Heinkel He-111s in a diamond formation, we were positioned such that one was in front of each of us, the enemy bomber in front of me was centered in my gun sight and we were closing rapidly. There was a sparkle on the top of its fuselage and then tracers were streaming past my canopy as I realized that sparkle was the dorsal machine gun. I pulled my machine gun trigger and felt the reassuring heavy vibration of the four guns firing, bright flashes appeared on the fuselage around the gun position and it stopped firing. I pulled the canon trigger as I pulled my nose up walking my fire up the fuselage and out onto the wing, a burst of flame from an exploding gas tank and the enemy bomber seemed to fold in half, one wing going up until it was almost vertical while the other remained horizontal, then the bomber fell off on its injured side and dove, trailing flame, for the ground.

I dove to the side and was then shoved forcefully away as the lead plane disintegrated in a massive explosion. I looked back over my shoulder and two more bombers going down in flames from Red lead and his wingman. I saw Buffy above me but diving away and I slammed the throttles to the firewall to catch back up with her. "Red lead, break left and you've got some more bad guys half a mile in front of you!"

I had closed back onto Buffy's wing and she pointed down and to the other side of me and I saw two more Heinkels, I dove for them and Buffy repositioned herself on my wing, "Red three, left a little."

I slipped to the side and realized she was lining us up so we both had targets, why the hell hadn't I thought of that? The gunners on the bombers saw us coming and opened up much too early, we jinked to avoid their fire until they were well within range and then both of us opened up together. I saw my hits were outboard of the left engine and moved them in and triggered the canon, the heavy shells smashed into the engine. An explosion tore it loose and I walked the fire toward the fuselage and then let up on the triggers when I saw hatches flying open and bodies jumping clear of the plane.

I pulled up and glanced to the side, Buffy was still behind and I could see her bomber spinning toward the ground trailing long streamers of fire. Buffy suddenly zoomed up and I jerked my wheel to follow her, slipping back into the wing man's position, and then her guns were firing again. I looked ahead and saw a 109 heading straight for her as her rounds slammed into the enemy plane. It looked like it had run into a brick wall, almost staggering to a stop, and then it was falling toward the ground, its propeller wind milling ineffectually.

We flew quietly for a few moments; I was stunned by what I had just done. I knew I had killed men, but it hadn't hit me yet. I was more drained by the pace we had been at, and then Buffy was accelerating again. I guess it wasn't over yet.

We were diving shallowly and I scanned the sky ahead of us, then I spotted the enemy bomber we were pursuing. We closed the distance rapidly, it was jinking around the sky so it must have spotted us coming. The gunners started firing early, their tracers falling short but we were closing the distance so it wouldn't be long. "Red three, I'll distract them while you go in."

"Red four, go ahead and take it."

"Can't, don't have any more ammo."

I was stunned, that silly girl was risking her life to distract the fire from the gunners and she couldn't even shoot back. I shoved the throttles forward again, ineffectually since they were already all the way forward, and lined up my sights on the bomber. Buffy was streaking toward the enemy bomber, dodging just enough to keep out of the fire, and then the bomber's wings filled my gun sight. I pulled the triggers and saw my tracers' stream out toward the other plane and then sparkling on the tail surface. This was longer range than I was used to; Buffy had gotten us a lot closer before opening up. I had to lift the nose more to provide enough lead. The fire walked up the fuselage and I triggered the canon, the heavy thud of its firing adding to the ripping roar of the machine guns. The bomber staggered under the heavy fire and the enemy guns went silent, and then mine did also. I was out of ammunition!

"Red four, that's it for me too."

"Then let's head back and hope we don't run into any bad guys."

We were almost to the ocean when we turned back to the southwest and headed for Aberdeen. Ten minutes later we were circling the field again and this time we got green flares as we approached the runway. I set down immediately after Buffy, as we slowed and turned onto the taxiway I saw clumps of British soldiers jumping up and down and throwing their hats in the air as we taxied past. Then I realized that most of the fight must have been visible to them from the field, they were cheering us as we went past. I waved sheepishly as I followed behind Buffy's plane; we were headed to the same parking area as on our first stop. I saw the other two Lightnings were already parked there. Ground crewmen were working on them, gun hatches open and fuel trucks along side, but I couldn't see the Colonel or his wing man anywhere around the planes.

As we pulled to a stop and shut off the engines I heard Buffy over the radio, "Red three; fill out your flight log before you deplane."

I was puzzled by her request but I was ready to sit quietly for a couple of minutes so it sounded like a good idea. I popped the canopy, the same ground crewman as the first time was back up on the wing, "Everything safed, sir?"

I double checked the gun settings and turned to him, "Yeah, and empty!"

He grinned at me, "Great shooting, sir!"

I looked to the east and could see at least half a dozen columns of smoke rising in the air, "Hope they didn't come down on anybody."

"Not likely, and still a hell of a lot better than what they planned on dumping on our heads if they had gotten a chance," his smile grew as he looked at the horizon. "You want some help?"

I shook my head, "Have to finish the paperwork."

I took my log book and started completing the entries; it was complete up to just before we had first landed in Scotland. I finished the log for that flight and then started on the next flight, the first entry was one I had never expected to make, 'Take-off 1850 BWT, RAF Dyce: Combat Sortie'.

Then I went over the flight, making entries, slowing as I realized what I had done, and what Buffy had done. By my count she had four 109s and two 111s, plus the Condor so she was an ace! I wondered if she could get the kills confirmed before the shit hit the fan. Would it ever be acknowledged? I had two 109s and two 111s, the last 111 I could only claim as a probable, it wasn't on fire or out of control when we broke off. I wondered if I would ever be able to get any of my kills confirmed, I wasn't an ace but four kills and a probable on one mission was nothing to sneeze at.

I finished the log entries and looked around; I saw the Colonel and his wingman, the young 2nd Lieutenant from the morning, walking toward our planes with a couple of British officers with them. I unhooked myself and climbed out of the cockpit and then dropped to the ground, staggering a little with the shock. They were headed for Buffy's plane and I walked toward her plane as she dropped off the wing and then waited patiently for them.

I got to her side while they were still a little way away, "I guess the shit's about to hit the fan."

She nodded grimly, "Let's try to get as many of our kills confirmed as we can before we do anything else."

Buffy stiffened and snapped a crisp salute, I followed suit and held it until the Colonel returned it. He looked sternly at Buffy and then glanced at me for a moment and then turned his gaze back to her, "What the hell are you doing ferrying planes?"

I was startled and evidently Buffy was also, her voice almost squeaked as she responded, "Sir?"

"Why the hell aren't you in a combat squadron, for that matter why aren't you leading a combat squadron?"

I could see Buffy search for an answer, "Uh, orders, sir?"

"Well I'm getting those order changed just as fast as I can, don't plan on going back to the states anytime soon young man!"

Buffy stiffened, then held out her log book, "Uh, sir, could you confirm my kills, or Lieutenant Thompson's kills, that you observed?"

He took Buffy's log book and started reading, and signing his name, "I can confirm the Condor, don't know about these first three fighters. What about the one you shot off my tail?"

"Uh, sir, that was Lieutenant Thompson that got that one."

He looked over at me and I held out my log book, one of the British officers spoke up, "Colonel, I can confirm those first four fighters, two by one of your planes and then one each by that plane and the wingman. For that matter just about anyone on the base can confirm those, we've even got three of the pilots, one's injured pretty bad but the other two are in custody."

The Colonel handed him Buffy's log book as he took mine, "So the second entry is the one you shot off my tail?"

"Yes, sir."

He signed the book and then held it out to the British officer who signed his name by the first entry. The Colonel took both log books back and continued reading them, "I can confirm both of the bombers you two got when Lieutenant Summers lead the attack against that formation of four."

The British officer spoke up again, "That was the most incredible thing I've seen, what are the odds of something like that happening; all four planes perfectly positioned in the middle of a dog fight."

The Colonel looked at him, "It wasn't chance; Lieutenant Summers lead the flight to that position."

"He what?"

"Lieutenant Summers led that attack; we didn't know what was going to happen until the targets were in our gun sights."

The British officers stared at Buffy, then one of the ground crew that were clustering around us started cheering, followed by several others. The officers glanced sternly around but it still took a minute to quiet them down. Then the officer held out his hand to Buffy, she took it and he said, "Thank you, Lieutenant that attack is what broke the bomber's attack, they turned and fled after that."

Then he reached over to the Colonel for the log books, "I think I should sign those kills, Colonel, you were getting a kill at the same time."

He handed him the books and the British officer signed them and then read on, "Yes, we have confirmation from the coast watchers for these next two bomber kills."

The Colonel looked over the books, "Congratulations Lieutenant Summers, you are officially an ace. You did mighty fine also, Lieutenant Thompson, four kills and a probable."

"Yes sir; wasted a little too much ammunition early on and ran out on that last one."

A British officer that had recently joined the cluster around us spoke up, "No you didn't; we just got a call from Peterhead, the bomber crash landed on the beach up there."

He took my log book and crossed off 'probable' and wrote above it 'kill confirmed by crash' and signed his name to it.

"Sounds like it's time for some celebrating tonight," the 2nd Lieutenant spoke up for the first time.

The Colonel nodded, "Back to my original question, why the hell aren't you two in combat squadrons?"

Buffy looked grim, "They won't let us."

"Bull shit! I'll take you this minute; I don't care what they say. Give me your serial numbers; I'll have you transferred to my group immediately."

Buffy grinned at him, "Make that offer in two minutes and I'll take you up on it."

"What the hell are you saying, Lieutenant!"

Buffy glanced over at me and shrugged her shoulders, she reached up and took the leather flying helmet and pulled it off her head, then shook out her blond hair. It was sweat soaked and matted but it still fell to her shoulders. Everyone stared at her in shock, then the Colonel turned his gaze to me, I reached up and pulled off my helmet and shook out the curls, then brushed them back out of my eyes.

Buffy raised her hand in salute, "1st Lieutenants Buffy Summers and Barbara Thompson, sir."

There was silence around us, the crowd had been growing ever since we had started talking; now a voice from the back yelled out, "Who gives a bloody damn! They still saved our bacon!"

A chorus of yells and cheers went up but died away quickly as the British officers looked sternly around. The Colonel returned Buffy's salute and finally seemed to come out of his dazed state, "What the hell do you think you're doing young lady!"

"What any good fighter pilot does, engage and destroy the enemy, sir!"

"You aren't a fighter pilot!"

Buffy was getting angry now, "Sir, with all due respect, I am! And I think I've proven I'm a damn good one, too!"

That seemed to startle him for a moment, "Give me that log book!"

"Why?"

"Why?" he screeched, "Why the hell do you think! My name's in there!"

"Sir, the pilot's log book is to be an accurate and current record of the pilot's flights and accomplishments," she quoted the regulation as she held her log book out to him. "Is there anything in here that's not true?"

He stared at her for a few moments and took control of himself, finally he shook his head, "No, Lieutenant, there isn't. I'm sorry, I was out of line."

Buffy relaxed a little, "Sir, I'm sorry also, I know you're probably going to get into some trouble because of this… but I wouldn't have missed it for the world!"

I spoke up, "Nor I, sir."

He glanced over at me and then back to Buffy, "You're the instigator of this little adventure, aren't you?"

I answered before Buffy could, "Sir, we both decided to follow the orders posted in Halifax."

"And you knew damn well if anyone saw who you really were you never would have gotten into those airplanes."

Buffy spoke up, "Sir, this war is going to change a lot of things. You've heard of what's going on at Tuskegee?"

The Colonel looked at her strangely for a few moments, "Yes, I reviewed that program."

"And can blacks fly?"

"Blacks? Yes, Negroes can fly. They're doing quite well as a matter of fact."

"Well, women can also; it just may take a while for you men to realize it."

"In combat?"

"Yes, in combat!"

At that point a siren started wailing in the distance soon joined by more closer to us. A young British sergeant came running up and threw a hasty salute at one of the British officers, "Sir, another raid is on the way in; they'll be here in fifteen minutes or less."

"Shit!" Buffy exclaimed, she turned toward her plane and yelled at the ground crewmen, "You've got five minutes to get her buttoned up and I better have all the ammo she'll hold!"

The ground crewman standing on her wing waved in acknowledgement and gave her a thumbs-up. I looked around at my plane and saw the ground crew getting her ready. Then the Colonel choked out, "What the hell do you think you're going to do, Lieutenant?"

Buffy and I both turned back to him, "Getting my plane off this field and up there where she belongs, and maybe have a little fun with the krauts if they want to play!"

"You can't be serious!"

"Why not?"

"You're a woman!"

"Gee, as if I didn't know that!" Buffy glared at the Colonel, "People keep reminding me of that all the time, my question is 'how is that relevant?'"

"Women can't be in combat!"

"How the hell can you say that when one of your jobs is to drop bombs on women? Or doesn't it count if they can't shoot back?"

The Colonel stared at her, "But…"

I spoke up, "Sir, we have to get going or they're going to catch us on the ground!"

The Colonel looked from Buffy to me and back again, finally he stiffened, "Fuck it, it's your ass. Mount up, people!"

As Buffy and I turned to head for our planes the Colonel called out, "Summers!"

I stopped with her and turned back to him, he looked at her for another minute and then nodded his head, "Summers, you're lead, I'll lead the 2nd element. Lieutenant Franklin is your wingman, Thompson you're mine." He turned to the young 2nd Lieutenant, "You have any problem with that son?"

"No sir! She's already gotten me one kill!"

The Colonel actually cracked a grin, "And I didn't, did I?"

Franklin started to redden but didn't say anything, the Colonel turned back to me, "Thompson, you have a problem with that?"

"No, sir!"

"Then let's get rolling, gentlemen…" he shook his head, "ladies and gentlemen…"

9


	13. Chapter 13: Again

I ran over to my plane and climbed up on the wing and dropped into the cockpit. The ground crewman was standing on the wing beside the cockpit as I strapped myself back into the seat, "She's fully armed and you've got about 700 gallons of petrol."

"Good, we don't have to go far and she's quicker when she's a little light."

"Good hunting, ma'am." He said and grinned at me, I realized he was the same sergeant that had serviced my plane the first time.

"How long have you known?"

"Ever since you and the other young lady ran for the bushes."

I nodded to him, "Don't let her catch you referring to her as a 'young lady', she'll rip you a new one."

"I suspect so." He glanced over at Buffy's plane, "She's a real spitfire, isn't she?"

I nodded in agreement and then looked around, they were clearing the last of the equipment from around my plane; I looked back at the sergeant, "Time to get this show on the road."

"Yes, ma'am," then he hopped off the wing and checked around my plane, after a moment he stepped clear of my starboard engine and gave me the 'wind her up' signal. I hit the primer one time since the engines were still warm and then the starter button, the starter wound up and then the prop jerked around and there was a loud bang and a puff of black smoke and then she roared. The prop spun up and became a silver blur. I looked to the port side and verified it was clear and hit the primer and then the port starter, she roared to life. I checked the gauges; it only took a moment for everything to come up green.

I looked out of the cockpit and saw Buffy looking over at me, I gave her a thumbs-up and she nodded and looked at the other planes, after a moment her voice came over the radio, "Red flight, let's roll."

She started taxing out, followed by Lieutenant Franklin and after a few more moments by the Colonel, I pulled out after him and drew up so I was just off his right wing. I saw Buffy and Franklin swing onto the runway and then they were roaring down the strip and lifting into the air, we followed right behind them. She kept us headed west for a couple of minutes, climbing at our maximum rate.

"Red flight, right finger four," Buffy radioed as we neared them, Franklin was off her left wing, the Colonel drew in off her right wing and I was stepped out even further to the right.

We continued climbing as we banked slowly to the left; Buffy brought us around until we were headed back to the east. It was getting late in the evening, after 8 PM, but this far north and close to the longest day of the year we had a couple hours more of daylight. We continued our climb; I kept my eyes moving, keeping a close watch behind us; trying to insure we didn't get jumped.

"Red flight, bandits eleven o'clock low." I looked to the left and down a little and saw the gaggle of black dots, I looked above them but could not see any signs of a separate group of fighters. Either they were all together or they were too far away to spot. "Red flight, the fighters are right above the bombers, less than a thousand feet above them. We'll make one diving pass through them and then hit the bombers. When we go through the bombers, second element break right and zoom climb once you're clear, we'll break left and join you back on top."

As we neared the enemy formation I could see it was smaller than the earlier group. It looked like there were about sixteen fighters, four groups of four, and a couple dozen bombers below them. The bombers were different than the ones we had met earlier; I recognized the more rectangular form of Ju-88s. Buffy brought her wing up and peeled off in a dive toward the fighters, we followed her down. I saw the two fighters at the rear of the formation peeling around and climbing toward us, somebody had finally noticed us. Buffy rolled left and then back again, moving us over and putting them out of position. "Red three, drop back and pull in a little tighter!"

I throttled back along with the Colonel, Buffy and Franklin pulled away from us a little and then we drifted over to be more in line with them but still clear of their turbulence. We accelerated to keep our spacing and then Buffy announced, "Targets in five… four… three…"

I saw the enemy fighter, a 109 again, flying into my gun sight; he didn't seem to be aware he was under attack. I guess the other fighters that had spotted us had failed to alert the rest of their flight. His wings filled the outer ring of my gun sight and I put the center pip right on his propeller hub and squeezed both the MG and canon triggers, tracers leaped from my guns and reached out and touched him. His entire engine compartment sparkled with hits, brighter flashes from my canon rounds exploding, then there was an even brighter flash from just behind the engine, his machine gun ammo had gone off. The fighter staggered and then started disintegrating as I let up on the triggers and pushed the wheel forward to dive behind him.

I glanced around, making sure some other fighters weren't coming down on our tail but we were clear, the two we had dodged were still trying to catch up but losing ground because of our greater dive speed. I could see two fighters on fire, spinning uncontrollably, plus the pieces of what was left of the one I had shot up falling through the clear sky. Then Buffy's voice interrupted my thoughts, "Bombers coming up, spread out!"

I slipped to the right and pulled up to get back to my proper position off the Colonel's wing and saw the bomber formation in front of us. One more quick glance behind to insure we were still clear and then I turned my attention in front of us. Sparkling tracers were reaching toward us from the enemy bombers and I started jinking to keep from being too easy a target.

We closed the last distance in a rush, then the bomber's wing filled my gun sight and I placed the center pip on the cockpit and squeezed both triggers, what was becoming the familiar ripping roar of my guns, punctuated by the heavier staccato thudding of my canon filled the cockpit. Tracers streaked toward the enemy bomber and then curved down slightly before sparkling against the top of his fuselage.

Suddenly the bomber disappeared in a massive flash and my plane was thrown to the side, I snapped the wheel over and pulled it hard to me, rolling into a dive to avoid the wreckage. I heard several heavy thuds and a spattering of what sounded like hard rain, I hadn't cleared the wreckage completely. I looked to either side and saw several gashes and torn metal in my right outer wing, the instruments were all still in the green and the engines sounded fine. I worked the controls and everything felt okay, it appeared nothing major had been damaged.

Buffy's voice in my ear jerked me back to awareness of the rest of the world, "Red four, rejoin!"

I immediately rolled back upright and pulled hard on the wheel, zooming up as I looked around trying to spot the rest of the flight. I saw another lone P-38 above and a little to the left of me, I radioed the Colonel, "Red three, coming up on your right."

He slowed slightly and I was able to rejoin him in a few moments, we continued our climb and I looked around making sure nothing was coming up on our tails. I could see the remnants of the bomber I had destroyed falling toward the ground along with three other columns of smoke ending in flaming bombers far below us. Buffy called out, "Red three, hold that course for another 30 seconds."

I looked around and saw two more P-38s slipping rapidly toward us, Buffy lead her wingman until she was on the Colonel's left wing and her wingman was outboard of her, then she called again "Red three, loop us!"

I pulled back on the wheel, keeping my position on the Colonel's wing as we looped up and over and started back down. As we went over the top Buffy pulled her loop even tighter, I heard Franklin gasp out, "Red lead, I can't…"

"Red two - form on Red three!"

I saw Franklin ease off and reform on the Colonel's other wing, "Red four, spread wider!"

I slipped to the side, opening the gap between me and the Colonel, and then Buffy was slipping her plane between and in front of us, "On me, people!"

Moments later she eased out of the loop and started rolling, we matched her maneuver and she pulled us out of the dive and I saw the bombers in front of us again. We were approaching from the side, only slightly above them. I looked above us and saw 109s were diving on us but they were too far away to get to us before we would reach the bombers. I called out, "Bandits coming down but we're clear for now."

Then we were in range, I picked a bomber and centered my sight on it and squeezed the triggers. My tracers leapt out and the sparkle of hits appeared on his fuselage. I applied a little rudder to bring my fire into the wing root and eased the throttle slightly to give me a little more firing time. Then I was on him, I dove under him and got shoved down as I passed below him, my cockpit filled with a flash of red orange light, I looked up to see him trailing a long stream of fire and falling into a steep dive.

I looked around and saw the Colonel's plane above and to the left of me, we were past the bomber formation so I climbed to rejoin him. Suddenly there was the patter of hard rain slamming into my plane; tracers seemed to surround me as I heard Buffy scream "RED FOUR, BREAK LEFT! BREAK LEFT!"

I jerked the wheel to the left just as a series of heavy thuds slammed into my right wing, my canopy starred and the lower panel shattered, I felt pieces of glass tear into me as a screaming wind tore through the cockpit. I looked around frantically trying to spot my tormentor, I saw him just as Buffy's fire smashed into his cockpit, disintegrating his canopy and staggering his plane so hard it looked like it stopped. Then she flashed past him and pulled her plane around in an impossibly tight turn, her guns blazed again and her fire smashed into his wingman. I saw the puff of a gasoline explosion from his left wing root and then the left wing was fluttering in the air, separated completely from his plane.

I returned my attention to my plane, smoke was pouring from my right engine and the prop was wind milling, I hit the fire extinguisher and feathered the prop. I tried the controls and it appeared I was flying okay, I checked outside and it looked like the fire was out but my right wing was really torn up, I could see through it in several places.

I looked around and could see no more enemy planes in the area, Buffy came pulling up alongside of me, "Red four, are you okay?"

"Yeah, she seems flyable, everything's responding okay."

Two more P-38s pulled up on the other side, the Colonel's voice came over the radio, "Red flight, that's enough for today, let's go home."

Buffy responded, "Red three, take the lead, I'm staying with Red four."

"Roger, Red lead."

The Colonel and Franklin pulled in front of us and we followed in a loose formation several hundred yards astern of them. We made a long slow bank until we were heading southwest and then settled on that course. I was keeping a close eye on my instruments but my remaining engine seemed to be running fine. I ignored the roar of the cold wind around the cockpit and the stabbing pain in my side; I'd worry about that later.

It only took us about ten minutes to get back to Dyce, Aberdeen appeared below us and then I spotted the field. There was no sign of an attack so I guess we had broken up the enemy formation before they got there. As we neared the field the Colonel called out, "Red four, you land first."

"Sir, you should go in first, in case I prang it and mess up the runway."

"Lieutenant, do as I said!"

We entered the landing pattern and the Colonel and Franklin stayed high, Buffy stayed on my wing as we flew parallel to the runway. I pulled the flap lever and heard a heavy grinding noise and the left wing started to rise, I looked out to each side and saw the left flap deploying but the right flap was jammed. I pushed the flap lever back up and the left flap retracted, "No flaps," I called out, "I'm going to have to go in hot."

"Lower your gear, let's check that out." Buffy called.

I pulled on the gear levers and heard the reassuring whine and felt the wheels coming down. I had to apply even more rudder as the drag slowed me to counter-act the effect of only having one engine. "Barb, looks like your right tire is blown; be real careful when you set her down."

"Got it, Buff."

I eased the plane around onto final, careful not to lose her at such a low altitude where I wouldn't have time to recover. Without flaps I was coming in about twenty miles per hour faster than normal, fortunately Dyce had nice long concrete runways. I eased her down until she settled onto the runway. I held the right wing just slightly high, keeping the gear off the ground, until I slowed to the point where she wouldn't fly anymore and then it came down.

I almost lost it right there, she tried to ground loop around the flat tire but I managed to hold her on the runway by standing on the left brake. Finally she was almost stopped; I got her clear of the runway and then let her come to a complete stop.

I looked around and saw the entire field was surrounded by soldiers, they appeared to be yelling and screaming and throwing their hats in the air. I shut down my remaining engine and unlatched the canopy, as I reached up to push it open I felt stabbing pain in right side, my shirt felt soggy and clung to me.

I reached up with my left hand and pushed the canopy open, then started releasing the straps and disconnecting the radio and oxygen. A voice from outside came to me, "You're hurt, ma'am!

It was the same sergeant that had led the ground crew working on my plane; I looked around and could see more men were rigging her for a tow. I could also see all the damage she had taken from the 109s machine guns and canons, plus the dings I had picked up from the exploding bomber. "Not as bad as her!"

He looked around, startled by my statement, then realization struck, "Oh, your plane. She's torn up a little but it doesn't look too bad, I've seen ones shot up a lot worse back in the air."

Somebody on the ground yelled up, "Release the brakes!"

I unlocked the brakes and yelled down, "Off!"

We jerked and then started to roll slowly over toward the apron were we had been parked before, "Watch the gear!"

"Don't worry, ma'am, they're keeping an eye on it. We know how to handle planes with flat tires."

By the time we reached the parking apron Buffy was on the ground and taxing up, she held back until we came to a stop and then pulled in and shut down. As soon as her engines were off the sergeant on my wing stood up and shouted "Medic!" and then waved toward us, "Just stay there ma'am until he can check you."

A few moments later another man climbed up on the wing and leaned into the cockpit, he felt around my side gently and slipped his hand down my back, "You don't seem to be caught on anything, let's get you out of there."

I nodded and with a little help from him managed to stand up on the seat and then he and the sergeant just lifted me out of the cockpit. Before I could do anything they carried me to the aft edge of the wing where a couple other guys had shoved a maintenance platform so they could climb down without much problem. I gasped in pain when they jarred me stepping down to the ground and they froze, "Go on, it's not that bad."

They got me the rest of the way down and laid me gently on the concrete. I struggled to get my good arm out of the leather flying jacket and then it came free, the medic pulled the jacket the rest of the way off and I saw the lining was soaked with blood. The medic started cutting the material of my coveralls away from my side and in a few moments was able to peel the material back, I glanced down and saw a shard of glass, about an inch wide, sticking out of my shirt just in front of my right arm. Buffy came skidding to a stop and was kneeling beside me as the medic said, "It doesn't look too bad, let's get you to the hospital."

Buffy looked up at him, "Don't you think you better check her out a little more thoroughly?"

"Uh, well, I don't want to expose her… all these men…"

"Jesus! You think she'd rather die than show off her tits?" Buffy reached down and started unbuttoning my shirt.

After a moment the medic spoke up, "Its better if we cut it off, you can cause more injury if you try to take her clothes off."

"Then do it!"

The medic started cutting at my clothes, cutting the shirt off and then carefully lifting up the long underwear and cutting it away. In the distance I heard the sound of a wailing siren, making that weird ululating sound they used in Europe. He pulled the material of the long underwear away from me and blood started welling out through my bra from the side of my breast. Buffy reached into the medic's pack and jerked out a compression bandage and ripped it open, quickly but carefully she wrapped it around the shard of glass and held it against me, "Now cut off her bra, carefully! She doesn't want a mastectomy."

There were screeching brakes and I turned my head to see an ambulance come to a stop beside us, the wailing siren fading to silence. Several more medics piled out and came running over to us and then came to a sudden stop as they saw me, I smiled up at them. I felt the medic's cold scissors against my skin as he slipped them between my breasts and then cut the bra, then he reached under Buffy's hand and cut the strap further around my side, "Miss?"

I felt the pressure ease slightly and there was another snip, then it seemed to rock a little and another snip and Buffy said, "Okay, now pull the pieces clear."

There was some gentle tugging and then I felt the material pull away from my breast, Buffy leaned close to me and carefully lifted the bandage, "It doesn't seem to bad, but I think it might be better to get it out now than have it bounce around while your transporting her and have it slice her up even more."

The medic was leaning over close to me, I could feel his warm breath on my breast, "Yeah, I think you may be right, but it's pretty deep."

"Just pull it straight out," I gritted my teeth waiting for the pain but there was just some gentle pressure and some sliding movement, then Buffy's face was above me, "Hey, Barb, you want a souvenir?"

I looked at her for a moment, then shook my head no, "No thanks."

"We're going to lift you up, don't try to help, just let us do it."

"Okay"

I felt several pairs of hands slipping under me and then they raised me so I was sitting up; then Buffy said, "take off her clothes."

"Hey now! Is that necessary?"

"Just your top, we need to bandage this and check for anything else."

I nodded reluctantly and felt gentle hands tug off the remnants of my clothes; I slipped my arms out of the coveralls, moving slowly so I didn't hurt anything, once my arms were out of them the hands pulled off my shirt. The medic cut the long underwear top down the side until they could just pull it off without having to pull it over my head, the remnants of my bra came with it. As the clothes came off I could feel other pieces of glass catching and cutting. It took the medic a couple of minutes working with a pair of forceps to pull the other pieces of my canopy from my side and arm.

I winced as he dug one piece out, it seemed deeper than the rest, when it came free Buffy said, "That's not glass!"

I looked down at the ragged chunk of metal, half an inch long and a quarter inch square, the medic looked at closer, "Nope, that looks like a chunk of 20mm canon shell."

"That I'll keep as a souvenir," I said.

Buffy held out her hand, "I'll keep it for her."

The medic dropped the chunk of metal into her hand. There were no more surprises as they completed checking me over, then as they bandaged me the roar of two more P-38s taxing up drowned out any more conversation. By the time they were finished Colonel Miller and Lieutenant Franklin were over by us. They laid me back down on the concrete and the Colonel knelt down beside me, "How are you, Miss?"

"Lieutenant, sir, I'm fine."

He looked skeptically at the bandages covering my torso but Buffy spoke up, "It's mostly just little cuts from the canopy Plexiglas sir, only two a little deeper, one from that shard and one from this chunk from what we think is a 20mm round."

She held out the little piece of metal and he looked at it, then back to me, "You're lucky that was pretty much spent when it hit you."

"Yes, sir."

He looked between me and Buffy for a few minutes, then shook his head reluctantly, "You two are bound and determined to get me into trouble, aren't you!"

"We're not trying to, sir!" Buffy responded.

"Right! Now I've got to write her up for a purple heart, how the hell am I going to explain that?"

"Sir, I don't want any medals!"

He looked down at me and shook his head, "You two should get a fistful of them for what you did today! How many more did you get, Thompson?"

"Three, two Junkers and a 109."

He looked up at Buffy, "Summers?"

Buffy actually looked embarrassed, "Uh, five, three 109s and two 88s."

"Twice you make ace in one fight, 12 kills in one day and no doubt on any of them," he shook his head and looked down at me, "and you, five and three in two fights? Jesus I wish you guys, girls, were in my group!"

"We'd love to, sir!" Buffy spoke up.

He glared at her then looked down at me, "You're going to the hospital, I'll let Summers go as soon as she finishes the debrief."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you got your log book?"

I felt the side pouch on the leg of my coveralls and felt the book in it, "Yes, sir."

"If you get a chance get it filled out, we'll see if we can't get your kills confirmed before the shit hits the fan and we all get cashiered."

"Yes, sir."

A couple of medics from the ambulance set a stretcher down beside me and I was picked up by a bunch of people and set down on it before I could move myself. Then they carried me to the ambulance for the ride to the hospital.

The next couple of hours were boring spiced up with several bouts of severe pain when the doctors stitched up the two deep wounds and a couple of the minor ones that were just a little too big to be held closed by bandages. The local anesthetic they claimed they were using wasn't very effective.

Buffy showed up after a couple of hours and sat with me, under her prodding she got me to fill in my log book. The Colonel came by to check on me along with the RAF base commander, Buffy got them to sign off on my last three kills so I now had eight official victories. The doctor came by while they were there and said I could stay overnight in the hospital, but all they had were open wards and no real facilities for women, or I could leave as long as I was with someone. Buffy immediately spoke up so a short while later I was sitting on the edge of the bed surrounded by screens trying to get dressed.

Buffy had brought my gear bag from the plane; fortunately it hadn't gotten torn up when my plane was damaged. Buffy was digging through it looking for fresh clothes; she pulled out a bra and then looked at my bandaged torso, "I think we'll dispense with this."

"Buffy, I'm not going out without a bra…"

"Barb, be reasonable, you don't want this strapped around your chest; it'll be pressing right on some of your wounds!"

I looked down myself, then reluctantly looked back at her and nodded in agreement. I heard a snigger from the bed on the other side of the curtain, some soldier in the hospital with a broken leg I remembered. Buffy glanced at the sound, "You want another broken leg, buddy?"

The voice came back, "No ma'am!"

Buffy opened up her bag and dug around for a minute, then pulled out one of her heavy cotton t-shirts she liked to sleep in. She brought it over to me, "Don't you think it's a little small?"

"It's plenty big enough." I held out my arms and she carefully slipped it on them and then over my head and then worked it down my torso, it covered the bandages without pressing too hard and actually provided a little support for my breasts so they weren't swinging free.

Buffy knelt in front of me and started pulling on my flying boots; I braced myself as she pulled them off. She stood up and started unbuckling my belt, "Buffy?"

"You've got blood on your slacks."

I looked down and saw the dark stain on the khaki, I brushed her hands aside; "I can do this."

She went back to my bag and got out a fresh pair of pants and a uniform blouse and set them on the bed beside me. I let the pants drop to my feet and stepped out of them. Buffy went to a large basin on the bedside table and took out a wash cloth and wrung most of the water out of it. She walked back to me, "Put up your arms."

I raised my arms and she carefully swabbed the dried blood off of my side and hip. When I was clean and dry she helped me get changed into the new uniform. Buffy took a bag out of her pocket and started pinning wings and bars on my shirt, "Where'd those come from?"

"Your ground crew sergeant got them from your old shirt before he threw it away."

I felt the scratchy material of the shirt she had given me, it was the heavy wool blouse that we usually reserved for flying, "Why the wool shirt?"

"Your jacket got ruined; it's starting to get a little chilly out there."

"Oh…"

"Barb, I've got us quarters in their bachelor officer quarters; it's actually a requisitioned hotel just outside the base so each room has its own bath."

"Sounds good, Buffy."

"You want to get something to eat before we head out there?"

"Sure, you got someplace in mind?"

"They said the best place is the Officer's club, anything out in town doesn't have much due to rationing."

I looked down at myself, I was presentable. Buffy had also changed at the hospital and had even talked the doctors into letting her use their private bathroom so she had managed to take a shower. Her hair was still a little damp and stringy; she was grousing to me about the lack of a 'blow dryer' again, I told her to invent one herself if the things were so damn important to her.

We left the hospital; a car with driver was waiting for us outside. The driver took us to the Officer's club and I carefully climbed out, the wounds were really starting to pain me now. Buffy leaned down to the driver, "We'll be here for an hour or so, go get yourself some dinner. Is there someplace near here where you can hang out and we'll call when we need you?"

"Yes ma'am, I can hang out in the kitchen and get some dinner, just tell one of the waiters when you want to go."

"Okay, thanks corporal."

We walked into the Officer's club, there was a babble of voices and the air was heavy with cigarette and cigar smoke, Buffy groused, "Don't they realize they're killing themselves?"

"They probably don't think they'll live long enough to matter."

She snorted as we made our way over toward a table in the corner; suddenly I noticed that quiet was spreading through the room. I looked around and saw most of the officer's were clustered around the bar, someone moved aside and I saw a man against the bar in an odd uniform looking at us strangely. Then I realized it was a Luftwaffe uniform. I turned back to Buffy, "Buffy, I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

"Why?"

"I think some of the German's we shot down are here."

She turned and looked over at the bar, there was some whispering and muttering going on but the room was eerily quiet for an Officer's club. She turned back to me and pulled out a chair, "Sit!"

I sat down and she looked grimly at the crowd around the bar, she muttered under her breath, "Buff, you've walked into demon bars, just ignore them."

"What?" I asked.

She looked back at me, "Nothing."

She frowned for a moment and then her face relaxed into a neutral expression and she walked over to the bar, the men made way for her and I saw three German officers standing at the bar, they turned to face her as she came up to them. The officer in the center, I wasn't good on German rank insignia but I thought the pips on his shoulder indicated a Major and the others I thought were both Lieutenants, gave a sharp little bow, "Good evening, Miss. You are American?"

"Guten tag, and I'm sorry but that's about the extent of my conversational German, and to answer your question, yes." She pointedly turned away from him and spoke to the bar tender, "A couple of beers please."

"If I may, what are you doing here?" the German Major asked.

She turned her attention back to the Major, she looked at him for a few seconds and then shrugged her shoulders, "We were ferrying some airplanes, but then we got to have some fun."

He looked startled, "You are a pilot?!"

Buffy pointed to the wings on her leather flying jacket, "What the hell do you think these mean?"

He was taken back, "Sorry, Miss, I just… What do you fly?"

Buffy contemplated him again; then shrugged, "Lots of different planes, today it was a P-38."

"Ah! The forked-tailed devil! That was the kind of aircraft that the fighter group that jumped us today was flying. An impressive airplane! I almost had one before another one got me."

Buffy scowled at him, "No and yes."

He was confused, "No and yes? I don't understand you Miss."

"No, it wasn't a group, and yes it's an impressive airplane."

"What do you mean it wasn't a group?"

"I mean there were just four of us, as far as I know that doesn't make a fighter group; that makes a flight."

"Impossible!"

"What's impossible?"

"There were many more than just a flight of four, there had to be!"

Buffy shook her head, "Sorry, just the four of us."

"Miss, what are you trying to say?"

"I'm not trying to say anything, I'm saying it. There were only four of us that intercepted you!" Buffy turned back to the bar. She pulled some dollars out of her pocket and put them on the bar, "All I've got is dollars; I have no idea how to convert it or how much I owe you, just take what you need."

"Ma'am, you don't pay for your booze in here, you'll never pay in here as far as I'm concerned."

"Hey, thanks, but you don't have to…"

"No, ma'am! Not after what you did today."

Buffy shrugged and scooped up the money and stuffed it back into her pocket and then grabbed the two beers, "Thanks, and it's Buffy, and my friend is Barbara."

She turned and headed back to me, the German Major turned to one of the British officers standing next to him, "That young lady has some little problem, no?" he asked as he twirled his finger by his temple.

"Sorry old chap; there was just the four of them."

Buffy set the beers down on our table as one of the other German officer's exclaimed, "Gott im himmel!" While the other two stared at the British officer and then turned to us.

The German Major stalked over to us, the other two trailing behind, "You claim you shot me down?"

Buffy shook her head, "No, I don't know. When were you shot down?"

The British officer beside them spoke up, "He was the one that almost got one of your planes; then the other two dove on him and one of them, the wingman I believe, shot him down."

Buffy nodded toward me, "Then it was Barb that got you."

He turned to me, "You?"

I looked at him steadily, this whole scene, confronting men I'd been shooting at a couple hours earlier had a surreal quality to it, "Yes, sir. If you were the one that was about to get the Colonel then I'm the one that shot you down."

He stared at me in disbelief. One of the other officers, the one that had let out the exclamation earlier, looked at Buffy, "Und you - you haft schiessen… shoot me down?"

Buffy looked at him for a minute, "When did you go down?"

The other German Lieutenant spoke to him and they talked for a minute in German, then he turned to Buffy and in slightly accented English said, "He spotted two of your planes diving on the bombers and he led his flight down to intercept them. Then before he realized what was happening his wingman's plane was destroyed and then his was hit, his engine was destroyed and he had to bail out."

Buffy nodded, 'Yeah, those were the first two I got."

The Major had come out of his shock, "Miss…"

"It's 'Lieutenant', sir!"

He was taken aback for a moment, "Ach! So, Lieutenant, how many of us did you shoot down today?"

A voice from behind him spoke before Buffy could answer, "Eleven, Major, twelve if you want to count the Condor she got earlier today."

I looked up to see Colonel Miller and Lieutenant Franklin standing behind the German Officers, the Major turned around and saw the Colonel, he looked at him for a minute and then back to Buffy and then back to the Colonel. Finally he said, "This… this is some joke, is it not?"

"No, Major, it is not a joke. Lieutenant Summers has been credited with twelve confirmed kills today, Lieutenant Thompson has eight, I got four and Lieutenant Franklin got three."

"It is not possible!"

The Colonel gave him a sardonic grin, "Oh, but it is!"

The German's started talking rapidly among themselves, and the Brits led them back to the bar. The Colonel turned to me, "How are you doing Miss… Lieutenant Thompson?"

"Fine, sir, a little sore, but I'll be fine.

"Good to hear. I'll see both of you in the morning, until then enjoy your celebration."

"Yes, sir," both Buffy and I chorused.

The Colonel left us but Lieutenant Franklin stayed behind, "May I join you… uh, ma'am?"

Buffy looked at him for a second and then grinned, "If you're going to join us then I'm Buffy, and she's Barb, and you are?"

"Ben, ma'am…"

"Knock of the ma'am shit! It's Buffy and Barb." Buffy looked at him for a minute, "Ben… Franklin… why the hell did your parents saddle you with a name like that?"

He looked at her, shocked for a moment, "I'm actually Ben Franklin, Junior; I was named after my father."

Buffy chortled, "Oh, god! You must have had a real fun time in school!"

"Almost as much fun as being named 'Buffy', I imagine."

Buffy stopped her laugh and glared at him, "Buffy is a fine name!"

"So is Ben!"

They exchanged glares for a few moments and before it could escalate any further I decided to distract them, and I knew how to distract Buffy, "Your beer is going flat and I'm getting hungry."

Buffy looked down at me, "Humph!"

"Let me get the next round," Ben said.

I nodded, "I could use some more pain killer… And find out what they have to eat."

He nodded and headed for the bar, Buffy sat down beside me, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine; I'm just not up to breaking up a brawl between you two, so rein it in some, Buffy."

"Sorry," she took her beer and drained about half of it, "YUCK! This is worse than that magical…"

I looked at her quizzically, "Magical?"

"Never mind, that's not a story that needs retelling."

I reminded myself to remember that and bring it up sometime more appropriate, Ben was coming back from the bar with three more steins of beer. We had a fine evening together.

A couple of hours later we were back in our quarters, a room in a small hotel just off the base. It had a small bath with a tub but I hadn't tried to bathe, just used a wash cloth to wipe myself off. I was lying on the bed, leaning back against a pile of pillows, thinking about what I had done today. I knew I had killed some men, some I had shot and others had died in the wreckage of their airplanes, unable to get out. I explored my feelings but couldn't find anything beyond some mild regret that it had had to happen.

I changed my self-examination to how I was reacting, I could feel the tension rising in me and I thought I was going to start getting the shakes before too much longer. Other than some momentary flashes of terror during the fights I had been too busy to feel anything at the time. Since then I had kept myself locked down, refusing to think about what had happened until now.

I felt the bed shift and looked up; Buffy was sitting on the edge of my bed in a T-shirt, "Reaction starting to set in?"

I nodded and held out my hand, it was shaking a little, I concentrated and the shaking stopped, "Yeah."

She nodded, "It never goes away completely. Barb, how are you doing?"

I looked at her, I could see the concern in her face as she looked back at me, "I'm fine, I just never thought about killing people… about me killing people..."

"They're evil… they signed up for it and they got what they deserved."

"Buffy, they're just men…"

"NO! They're Nazis!"

I shook my head, "Buffy, you don't know that. You met the three in the bar; they were just soldiers like… like us. They were just doing their duty."

I thought about what I had just said, they were just soldiers like us. Since when had I become a soldier? I looked up at Buffy, how could such a beautiful young woman be such a warrior?

Reluctantly she nodded, "Yeah, they probably are. But what they're fighting for? What the Nazis do… you wouldn't believe what they're doing over there."

"Buffy, I know they're wrong… that what they've started is wrong… but they've been fighting over here for centuries. You'd think they'd learn but every generation or so they've all got to try it again."

She shook her head sharply, "No, this time it's different, different in a way you can't imagine."

I looked at her, "What do you mean?"

She looked at me and after a moment she sighed heavily, I reached out and took her hand, she let me hold it for a moment and then her other hand came over and took mine; she started playing with my fingers idly as she looked down at it. Finally she looked up at me, "Do you remember me talking about my friend Willow?"

She had mentioned Willow a couple of times, her best friend for a number of years although I think they had started to grow distant. "You've mentioned her."

"Her full name was, is, whatever… her name is Willow Rosenberg, she's Jewish, well her parents are Jewish I guess she's more Wiccan now."

"Wiccan?"

"A Witch, although I guess she could still be Jewish."

"She's a Witch?"

"Yeah, she and her girlfriend Tara were getting pretty good until Glory messed up Tara's mind. God, I wonder happened to Tara?" Buffy went away in her mind for a minute or so, her hands continued to play with my fingers and I waited patiently for her to come back. She shook herself and looked back at me, "Sorry… got sort of lost."

I nodded, she was still sort of out of it and I thought of a question that her statement had raised in my mind, "I thought Willow had a boyfriend… Oz?"

She nodded, "Yeah… he was a werewolf… he needed to go find himself and he sort of dumped Willow. She was pretty broken up but then she met Tara and they've been together ever since."

"They've been together? They're… lesbians?"

"Yeah, and didn't that freak me out when Willow told me, not one of my better moments." She shook her head ruefully, "but that's not why I brought her up."

"So why?"

"Her grandparents, on her father's side, were both, are both, over here, in Europe, now I mean. Her grandmother is in hiding somewhere in France, being raised by a gentile family. Her grandfather is, or will be, in Bergen-Belsen, a concentration camp, fortunately not one of the extermination camps."

"What do you mean?"

She looked at me solemnly, "The Nazis are trying to kill every Jew in Europe. They're sending them to these giant camps and either work them to death or just gas them when they arrive."

I looked at her in shock, "You have to be kidding me?!"

She shook her head, "No, no kidding at all. And they'll come damn close to succeeding."

"God!"

"Yeah, and the Japs aren't a whole lot better. Not as organized as the Germans but they're doing a number on the Chinese and others in the areas they've occupied."

"That just means we have to make sure we win this war."

She looked at me, I could see sadness in her eyes, "Yeah, we do. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure we do."

I nodded, "Buffy, I'm with you all the way."

She leaned forward slowly and slipped her arms around me and gently lowered herself, hugging me to her, her voice came softly to me, "I'm not hurting you am I?"

I put my arms around her and hugged her back, ignoring the minor twinges from my wounds, "No, I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, Barb."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry that you got hurt."

"I'll survive."

"Yeah, but if you keep hanging around me you might not."

"Buffy, it's my decision. I can bail anytime I want."

She pulled away from me a little, enough that she could see me and I could see her, "Understand, Barb, our side isn't all angels. Stalin is doing a number on his people and the ones he's going to conquer. In actuality he's as bad as Hitler."

"It doesn't seem like he's going to conquer anyone soon."

She came back into my arms and I felt her nod, "Yeah, I don't know what's going to happen, it's all changing from what I learned."

I held her and she held me, then she started to wiggle and squirm and I grunted in pain as she rubbed against one of my wounds, she froze, "Sorry…"

"Buffy, what are you trying to do?"

She was still for several minutes and then spoke very softly, "I'd like to sleep with you tonight, if I may?"

God was she a set of contradictions, the strong warrior now wanted to be held. I thought about it and realized I could use some holding myself. I nodded, "Yes."

15


	14. Chapter 14: Morning After

"I'm good to fly tomorrow." I told Colonel Miller, we were in a small office he had borrowed from the Brits. Buffy and I were standing at ease in front of the desk he was seated behind; Lieutenant Franklin was in the corner behind us.

"You aren't, I've talked to the doctors, and neither is your plane. But the Brits say they can have her patched together enough to fly to our base in a couple of days and you'll be up to it by then."

"Yes sir."

The Colonel turned to Buffy, "Miss… Lieutenant Summers are you okay with flying escort with Lieutenant Thompson when her aircraft is repaired."

"Of course, sir."

"You realize that you'll be flying in a combat zone?"

Buffy looked at him in amazement, "You are kidding…"

I slugged her in the shoulder and then winced, I'd swung a little too hard and it felt like I might have pulled a stitch. I concentrated on my wound but didn't feel any blood seeping so maybe I was okay. The Colonel's startled exclamation brought me back from my self-examination, "Lieutenant Thompson!"

I looked at him, "Yes sir!"

"What the hell was that?"

I thought for a moment and then realized I had reverted to my old habit. Major Jenkins had gotten used to the way I stopped Buffy from mouthing off, "Sir, Lieutenant Summers has a tendency to… to be indiscriminant with her language. I'm trying to break her of the habit."

"That doesn't mean you get to slug a fellow officer, Lieutenant!"

Buffy looked startled, "Sir? She's just tapping me on the shoulder to remind me to watch my mouth."

The Colonel looked at her in amazement, "That wasn't a tap!"

"It wasn't? It sure felt like it."

The Colonel sat back in his seat and stared at her; then his gaze came to me and after a few moments back to Buffy. "Lieutenant Summers, after all the stuff you throw around about being treated as an equal I can't believe you let her hit you like that and just take it!"

"Sir? She's just trying to keep me out of the brig! I know I have a tendency to run off at the mouth and fortunately Barb is a good enough friend to know when I need to shut up and to let me know."

"But she hit you!"

Buffy reached up and pulled her tie loose and then unbuttoned the top four buttons of her shirt. She pulled the shirt off her shoulder until her upper arm was visible; the slightly tan skin was not bruised or even red, "She didn't hurt me, sir."

The Colonel stared at her in amazement and then started to redden, not only was Buffy's shoulder visible most of her breast was also visible. She'd manage to snag the strap of her bra along with her shirt as she pulled it off her shoulder and she was pulling her bra off herself. In a strangled gasp the Colonel blurted out, "Miss Summers, get your clothes on!"

Buffy looked down at herself, "Jesus, you'd think he'd never seen a tit before."

I raised my fist but didn't hit her; instead I just looked at the Colonel. After a moment he started to chuckle and then broke out laughing. After a few minutes his laugh calmed down to where they were just occasional chuckles and he shook his head, I think in amazement. Buffy was glaring at him, "I know they're small but they're all I've got, you don't have to laugh at them, sir!"

That set him off again and it was another couple of minutes before he got it under control, "Oh GOD! Did I ever need that!"

He looked at Buffy and I for a minute, then shook his head ruefully, "I don't know what the hell I'm getting myself into, but I've got a feeling it will be worth it if it doesn't kill me. Of course my career's ruined but I don't think they'll shoot me."

"Sir?" I asked.

"Do you two want to stay in England?"

I looked at Buffy and she grinned slyly at me but then her expression grew concerned. I knew she was thinking the closer to the action she was the more likely she would be to be able to get into it. I also knew she was concerned about getting me into it. She had not been a happy camper when she'd gotten to the hospital yesterday afternoon and she'd seen the wounds scattered over my body. It had taken a long conversation interspersed with some yelling on my part to get her to understand that I flew with her because I wanted to, not because she dragged me along.

I answered for both of us, "Yes, sir!"

"Okay, I'm going to request to have you assigned TDY to my group while I get it ready for combat. I don't know how it will fly but I think I might be able to get away with it at least for a month or two given the current situation."

I glanced at Buffy, confused at what he'd said, "The current situation, sir?"

He looked at us for a moment, "You haven't heard?"

"Haven't heard what?"

"At 4 this morning the Russians attacked Germany. That should distract the German's enough that we can go on the offensive against them also, but I need to get my group in the air as fast as possible."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"We'll be able to bring you up to speed in a couple of weeks, sir." Buffy added.

The Colonel stared at her in amazement, "What?"

But Buffy was already lost in thought, she turned to me, "Do you think we'll be able to talk the Brits out of a couple of 109s? I know they've got at least half a dozen flying that they've patched together. That would be even better than the Spits. If not maybe at least we can get some Mark Vs, the Mark IIs are a little long in the tooth going up against 38s."

"Lieutenant Summers! What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, sorry sir, we ran, well under Major Jenkins we were the lead pilots, at the Top Gun school at March Field."

"What the hell?"

I spoke up, "Buffy was the one that came up with the idea of training the squadrons for combat by flying against them using the planes and tactics of the Germans. We weren't able to get any Me-109s but we did get a couple of Spitfire Mk IIs that had pretty similar characteristics."

"Is that where you two got all your experience?"

"Yes, sir, we've both got over five hundred hours flying simulated combat sorties against the squadrons we were training. We've also got more time on the gun range than anybody I've heard of, we certified all the squadron planes for the squadrons we were training for combat."

For the next hour we talked about what we had done at March and what we would want to accomplish with the training and how we would go about doing it. We had a week or two during which the group's planes and pilots would be arriving, the group ground crews were already supposed to be at the base, a new airfield near Horncastle in East Anglia, England.

Finally the Colonel said, "I think we've hashed out about all we can at this point. Franklin and I need to get in the air and get down there; we'll see you two in a couple of days."

"Yes sir," Buffy said, "It will be good being part of your group."

The Colonel looked at Buffy and then at me, "Lieutenant Summers, you do understand that you will not be part of the group. You are going to be there TDY for training and other duties only. You will not be doing any combat flying."

Buffy looked at him in disbelief, then covered her expression slowly, she almost snarled as she snapped out, "Yes, sir!"

The Colonel started to get angry in response, "Do you want to be a part of this or not, Lieutenant?"

Buffy pulled in her emotions, "Yes sir! I want to be a part of it! I want to be a part of all of it!"

"Lieutenant, what you're going to be doing will be plenty, much more than can reasonably be expected of a woman…"

I interrupted at that point, "Sir, please don't go there." I turned to Buffy, "Can it, Buffy! He's letting you, us, do far more than we ever thought we would. He can't do anymore."

Buffy glared at me and then at the Colonel, then settled back and nodded, "Sorry, sir. Sometimes I forget where I am now."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Before Buffy could say anything I spoke up, "She meant that she was in the Army and has to abide by the rules. I don't think she did that much when she was growing up."

He looked at me for a minute and then at Buffy and then back to me, "Somehow I think there's more to it than that. But we'll drop it for now."

"Yes, sir," we both chorused.

"And on another note… Lieutenant Thompson."

"Yes, sir."

"I've got Lieutenant Summers' after action report; I'll need yours when you get to the base."

"Yes, sir."

"I've also got my report and Lieutenant Franklin's, and a supplemental report from the base commander here at Dyce and the Wing commander."

"Yes, sir," we said again, I was wondering where this was going.

"Okay, Summers," he looked at her for a moment before continuing, "I'm putting you up for the DSC," his eyes turned to me, "Thompson I'm putting you up for the Silver Star along with your Purple Heart."

I was stunned, the Silver Star? What the hell had I done to deserve a Silver Star? I'd just followed Buffy around the sky and shot when she told me to. I could see the Distinguished Service Cross for Buffy, she'd certainly earned that. She had, for all practical purposes, completely disrupted two enemy attacks preventing any damage to the airfield we were sitting on. We may have been up there with her but we had just come along for the ride.

"Sir!" Buffy squeaked, "You can't do that!"

"Why the hell not?"

"I… I don't deserve it; Barb deserves it but not me!"

"Jesus, Summers! You shot down twelve Krauts yesterday! You saved Thompson's ass, my ass and probably Franklins! And you should be credited with the ones we shot down when you were leading us for god's sake! We were just an extension of you! Forgetting that, do you know how many pilots have shot down twelve enemy planes in one day?"

Buffy looked actually chagrinned for once, "Uh… no, sir."

"NONE!"

Buffy was silent for a moment, then softly she said, "Oh…"

The Colonel gave her an exasperated look, "Listen Summers, you probably won't get it although that will be political. Anybody who knows what you have done knows you deserve it. I've talked long and hard with both the base commander and the wing commander here and they've agreed to keep their recommendations under their hats until this goes public. All of this, your action reports, my recommendations, everything is going to be 'lost' in the paperwork as we set up the group. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it under wraps but I'm hoping for at least a month to six weeks. Once it comes out I'll 'find' the original reports and submit them and the Brits will submit their recommendations to their government. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, I think so." Buffy said meekly.

"I'll spell it out, just so you're clear. When it goes public the shit is going to hit the fan. I'll get canned; you two will probably get canned. Franklin, I hope you'll get out of it without too much damage."

"Yes, sir," Franklin said as he nodded in agreement.

"Minimally we're all going to be back in Washington answering to some very irate politicians and generals and you can imagine how much fun that is going to be."

"Yes, sir," all three of us said together, I noticed Franklin had gotten out of the chair he had settled into during the last hour and was now standing on the other side of Buffy.

"But my concern is to get the group up and operating as quickly and effectively as I can. After observing you Lieutenant Summers, and you too Thompson, I've determined I can do that a lot better with your assistance."

"Yes, sir," Buffy said, she shot me a quick glance, "And once you go operational you'll be even more effective with us flying with you."

The Colonel started to say something and then sat back in his chair and stared at her for a long moment, finally he said, "You are probably right, Lieutenant. But while I'm willing to sacrifice my career for the group I'm not quite willing to face the shit that would hit me if you got yourself or Thompson killed."

"Isn't that our concern, sir?" I said, both to let him know my feelings and to assure Buffy I was in this with her.

"No, Thompson, it's mine."

He gave Buffy a stern look, "Listen here young lady, if you go looking for trouble I'll ground you so fast your ass will be on the pavement before your wheels are down. I need you to get my squadrons up to speed, you'll be more help doing that than anything even you can accomplish in one plane."

I think for once he got through to Buffy, "Yes, sir."

"Okay, you two go and relax. We'll see you in a couple of days."

"Yes, sir," we turned to start to leave and then he called after us.

"Both of you," we turned back to him, "keep your mouths shut about what happened up here. And that includes you, Lieutenant Franklin. I don't want to hear any talk about the crazy girl pilots and their exploits coming from the barracks or any of the men in the group. As far as any of them are to know we've had a routine ferry flight but got a little off course and one of the planes suffered some minor damage in a German air raid. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" all three of us said together; then Buffy and I left. We hung around the airfield until the Colonel and Franklin left; then spent a couple of days playing tourist in the area until my plane was repaired and we could rejoin the group at Toynton Station just outside Horncastle.

We'd been on the base for two days; the pilots were slowly filtering in as they made their flights across the Atlantic. Nobody else had encountered any Germans and we were keeping quiet as the Colonel had ordered us to. Franklin introduced us as the men showed up and we'd been working with the ground crew getting the arriving planes checked out. The plane I had ferried across had attracted some attention, the roughly repaired battle damage setting it apart from the rest. The implication Franklin had left was that it had picked up the damage from a stray German bomb that had gotten dumped on the RAF field in the middle of the night, a nuisance raid and nothing more.

I think Franklin had a private word with the crew chief that was making the permanent repairs; he knew the damage wasn't from bomb splinters, at least I sure hoped he knew enough to tell the difference between the damage caused by machine gun and canon rounds and that caused by shrapnel. The chief was getting her back into shape and the repairs looked good. But with the strange glances I sometimes saw him give me I was pretty sure he knew more of the story.

It was early, reveille hadn't sounded yet, when a pounding on the door to our room woke me. Before I woke enough to be thinking Buffy had dragged herself out of her bunk and jerked the door open, "Yeah, what do you want at this ungodly hour?"

The corporal on the other side of the door stared in utter amazement at the apparition in front of him; Buffy in the morning could be a shocking sight. Her hair was in wild disarray and the thin sleeveless T-shirt that she wore covered very little of her and what it did cover it didn't do much to conceal; if anything it emphasized her curves. The bright morning light coming in the window behind her silhouetted her and even from where I was I could see the T-shirt was acting more like lace than cloth. The corporal couldn't stop his eyes from roving over her body as he tried to speak, "Uh… ma'am… uh… the Colonel wants you… wants you in his office…"

Buffy yawned and then said, "Now? Or should I get dressed first?"

"Uh, in half an hour, 0530, ma'am, both of you ma'ams."

"It's five fucking o'clock in the morning?"

The corporal's eyes went wide, "Yes, ma'am."

Buffy shook her head, "I've seen this hour a hell of a lot more often from the other side than this side, neither side is very good."

The corporal was completely confused but his eyes continued to scan her body, quite independent of any conscious control I thought, "Yes, ma'am."

Buffy finally noticed where his eyes were and she glanced down at herself, then back at him, "I'm giving you something of a show, aren't I?"

Startled he looked her in the eye, "Uh, yes ma'am."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because it's over now." She slowly shut the door and then turned around and leaned against it, a massive yawn overtaking her, I thought her jaw was going to break. Finally she shut her mouth and looked at me, "You hear?"

"Yeah, how do you want to do this?"

We were staying in the officer's quarters in a wing that until yesterday had been unused, it was going to be 611th squadron's quarters and they were just starting to arrive. Four of them had shown up yesterday afternoon so now we had to share the head we had been using or find other quarters, neither of which were very attractive prospects. Last night they had all been out at the O-club celebrating their arrival when Buffy and I crashed so there hadn't been any conflict. Maybe this morning they would all be asleep and we could get ready and out of there before they woke up. Buffy grabbed her robe, "I'll stand watch until you're out and you can stand watch for me."

I nodded and put on my own robe and slipped on some slippers, then picked up my kit and we headed for the head. I had just about finished, a very quick shower – the English still hadn't gotten the idea of hot water – I'd brushed out my hair and was brushing my teeth, when I heard footsteps stumbling to a stop and then Buffy's voice on the other side of the door, "Sorry gentlemen, facilities are off limits for a little while. If you really need a head use the one in the next wing."

"What the fuck!"

"I said the facilities are off limits for a while."

"Who the fuck…"

There was a gasp and then another voice, "George, shut up! Sorry ma'am, but who are you?"

"I'm Lieutenant Summers, Lieutenant Thompson, Barbara Thompson, is using the head, she'll be out momentarily and then I'll be using it. We'll be out of your hair in just a bit."

"But who are you?"

"We're helping bring the group up to speed, getting the planes ready, doing some training. We'll be around for awhile. I think we'll have to find some other arrangements now that you guys are showing up but we haven't had a chance yet."

"Oh, right. The Colonel said something about having some training specialists around. So you're assisting them?"

"We are them."

There was silence for several moments, then the first voice came back, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"We are the training specialists."

"What the fuck are you going to train us to do, knit?"

I had finished and I pulled the door open and jerked Buffy inside before she took his head off, "You're turn," I said cheerily.

I stepped out and closed the door behind me; I looked at the two guys standing in front of me in their skivvies. "She'll be out in a couple of minutes."

"And we're supposed to just wait?"

"There's another head down those stairs," I said pointing to the stairway across from us. The building we were in was a large old English manor house; the rooms in the central core were being used for the group and squadron offices. On either side of the core were two long two story wings, one floor of each wing was allocated to the three squadrons of the 89th fighter group that were to be stationed in England, the 609th, 611th, and 612th fighter squadrons. The 610th squadron was staying stateside for the time being to train replacement pilots before sending them overseas.

Toynton Station consisted of the manor house, a runway that ran parallel to the wings of the manor house fifty yards out the back door. Across the runway were the hangers, control tower, and miscellaneous shops to maintain the aircraft along with a couple of barns that had been converted to quarters for the enlisted men. Scattered around the field were the hardened revetments where the aircraft were parked, protected to some extent from German attack. The runway itself was one of the new pierced metal runways, but the taxiways and other paths were just dirt and I had a feeling the field was going to quickly turn into a quagmire when the rains started.

The two men looked at me appraisingly for a second; I thought the belligerent one was going to say something more but the other one grabbed him by the elbow, "Come on, George, the Colonel wants us in his office in twenty minutes."

Great I thought to myself, I guess we weren't going to be done with them soon. A couple more officers appeared from another room a few minutes later, I directed them down the stairs to the other head. Then Buffy came out and we headed back to our room.

At 0530 we walked into the group office, a sergeant at the desk outside the Colonel's office door looked up at us, "Good Morning, Lieutenants, Colonel's expecting you."

"Morning Sergeant Halloran," I said.

"How can any morning be good that starts at five AM?" Buffy snorted.

"You want some coffee, ma'am?"

"That may help a little, Sergeant."

He grinned at her; I think Halloran got a kick out of Buffy, "I'll bring both you ladies some."

We went on into the office as Halloran got up from his desk and headed for the coffee station on the other side of the large office. We walked, sort of marched actually, up to the front of the Colonel's desk, came to attention and saluted, I said, "Lieutenants Thompson and Summers reporting as ordered, sir."

The Colonel glanced up from the papers he was reading and casually returned our salute, "Have a seat the rest of the men will be here shortly."

Buffy and I went to the side wall and sat down, the chairs were straight backed chairs that looked like they came from a dining room set. A moment later Halloran came in and handed us each a cup of coffee. Buffy leaned back and started sipping her coffee, letting out a soft contented sigh. I looked over at her and raised my eyebrows, she just shrugged her shoulders; she didn't have any better idea than I about what was going on.

Five minutes later there was the sound of people arriving in the outer office and a couple moments later Halloran rapped on the Colonel's door, "The other pilots are here, sir."

"Send them in, Sergeant."

A moment later four officers marched up to the front of the Colonels desk, the foul mouthed man from this morning saluted and said, "1st Lieutenant Dixon reporting with a party of four, sir!"

The Colonel returned his salute and then glanced at us and jerked his head at us, Buffy and I rose and walked over to the side of his desk, "Lieutenants Summers and Thompson, this is Dixon, Harper, Kendricks, and Slovowski, part of the 611th that arrived yesterday."

We exchanged casual hellos; Dixon was the only 1st Lieutenant, the rest were all 2nd Lieutenants. After we had finished the Colonel continued, "We were notified last night that six of our reserve planes have been assembled at the depot and they want us to come get them. They're at an airfield just south of London, and there's a London bound train leaving in 45 minutes from Horncastle, you should be able to get there by mid afternoon. If you can I would like you back by tonight, if not then by early tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Dixon and I both responded, he glanced at me and didn't seem too happy. I was starting to get the feeling he was going to be a pain in the ass.

"The planes have been put together from their overseas shipment and the depot has signed off on them but they haven't been flown. Summers and Thompson have a lot of experience with new and depot refinished aircraft, they'll brief you on the way down on what to look out for."

I kept silent and let Dixon answer, "Yes, sir."

"You don't have much time and the depot doesn't have flying gear to check out to you, so get your gear and get back here. Sergeant Halloran will have a truck waiting for you to take you to the train station."

"Yes, sir," Dixon responded.

"Dismissed," the men turned and headed out and we trailed along behind them. Buffy and I headed back to our room when Dixon called out, "Where are you going?"

Buffy turned, "To get our gear, where do you think?"

"Your gear? Flight gear is supposed to be in the equipment room when not in use." Dixon said.

"Humph," Buffy snorted, "Like we've got time to run clear over there any time we need to go up. We keep ours with us where we'll have it if we need it in a hurry."

We headed up the stairs, as we rounded the bend I saw he was still staring after us. We had to wait ten minutes for them to get back from the equipment shed; they were festooned with gear; parachutes, Mae Wests, oxygen masks, and all the other stuff. Buffy and I had all our gear neatly packed in duffle bags at our feet. We loaded up into the back of the truck, Buffy and I waiting until last so we could have the outermost seats next to the tailgate. We sat down and Buffy opened her duffle and pulled out four neatly folded duffle bags and tossed one to each of the men, "Stash your gear in these, once we get on the train you can worry about getting everything adjusted to fit."

One of young officers, Harper I thought, spoke up, "Thanks, ma'am."

"It's Lieutenant or Buffy, not ma'am; I'm not an old lady."

He grinned at her and nodded which got him a glare from Dixon; what the hell was his problem?

We made the train and found an empty compartment, Buffy and I stashed our gear and went out and explored the train trying to find some food but didn't have any luck. As we were headed back to the compartment I heard Buffy mumble under her breath, "Sure as hell isn't the Hogwarts Express."

"What was that?"

Buffy looked back at me, "Nothing, just a reference to a yet to be written series of books."

"And that is relevant, how?"

"It's the only thing I know about English trains."

"So the Hogwarts Express was an English train?"

"Yeah, it took the students to Hogwarts at the beginning of each term."

"And Hogwarts was some kind of school?"

"A school for witches and wizards," suddenly Buffy came to a stop, "Shit!"

"What?"

"I'm never going to find out what happens to Harry!"

"What are you talking about?"

She turned around and looked at me, "Harry Potter! I've read the first four books but the last three haven't, hadn't, been written yet."

I looked at her, "I think I'd worry about a lot of other things before I'd worry about a book I hadn't read."

She looked at me for a moment, "Maybe…" then turned and continued up the corridor, I followed along behind.

When we got back to the compartment the guys were sprawled around talking quietly. Dixon looked up as we came in, "Where have you been?"

Buffy looked at him, "Looking for some food, why?"

"Don't go disappearing on me, Lieutenant. I want to know where you are at all times."

"And why should you care?"

"Because I'm responsible for you!" a flicker of doubt crossed his face, "When's your date of rank?"

"March 1st, 1942."

He looked at me, "And yours?"

"Same."

"Mine is February 15th, so I'm the senior officer here and responsible for all of you."

Before Buffy could react I said, "Yes, sir. Now let's go over what you'll need to know when we pick up the planes."

Dixon looked exasperated but then leaned back in his seat and pulled his cap down over his eyes. I looked at him for a moment and then at Buffy, she grimaced but then just shrugged her shoulders. I looked around the compartment; the other three guys were looking at me expectantly.

"Okay, the planes have just been assembled after shipment so there are several things you should check." I went through all the stuff we had found when we had been certifying new and repaired aircraft, warning them about the special things to look out for.

"Finally, one thing to really check, in the back of the main wheel well there is a brace that they have to take off to remove the outer wing panels. The braces are not well marked, they're stamped with a 'P' or 'S' for port or starboard but it's not easy to see and the stamp is not always clear. We've run into cases where they have been swapped when they are reinstalled. If they are swapped they will puncture the tire when the main gear is retracted and they can jam the gear so it won't go back down."

"Landing with a flat tire is bad, landing without gear is even worse; and you're going to prang the ship." Buffy added.

There was a snort from Dixon, his face still covered with his cap, but he didn't say anything else.

We were only an hour late getting to London and a truck from the airfield was waiting for us when we arrived. When we got to the airfield the planes were ready for us and there was still plenty of time to fly back so Buffy and I started to put on our flight gear. Dixon came up, "What the hell are you doing?"

I looked at him, "Getting ready to fly."

"It's too late! We'll have to wait until tomorrow."

Before I could say anything Buffy spoke up, "It's not too late, it's less than a forty minute flight and we've got at least two hours before sunset."

"I think it's too late."

"You just want to goof off in London."

He didn't say anything but I saw from the shit eating grin on his face that she had nailed it exactly. I pulled out my copy of the orders we were traveling under and held them out to him, "Fine, endorse the orders that it was too late to make the return flight."

Buffy was digging her orders out of her back pocket; he gave me a disgusted look, "Alright, we'll fly back this evening." He turned and stomped away.

I heard Buffy mutter under her breath, "Fucking asshole, you'd think there wasn't a war on."

An hour later we were approaching the airfield at Toynton, Buffy and I were flying the rear element, I was Yellow 5 and she was 6. As the lead element turned onto the final approach the radio came alive.

"Yellow lead, Yellow 2, your right main gear isn't coming down!"

There was a few moments pause, then Dixon's voice, "How about now?"

"Still nothing."

"Yellow lead, Yellow 6, hold altitude and stand by."

Buffy's plane dipped down and accelerated as Dixon called, "Yellow 6, what do you think you're doing."

"Yellow lead, just hold her steady." Buffy replied.

I watched as she flew directly under him, drifting to a stop relative to him and about ten feet below him, "What the hell are you up to Yellow 6."

"Yellow lead, the gears jammed, follow me."

"I'm not following you anywhere, Yellow 6! Toynton Tower, Yellow Lead, get out the crash trucks, I'm going to have to land wheels up."

I could hear the exasperation in Buffy's voice, "Yellow Lead, Yellow 6, there's no need to prang her yet, we can try to get the gear down."

"Like I'm going to do anything you say."

I'd had enough at that point, "Yellow Lead, Yellow 5, she's dealt with this problem before, let her help you."

"Yellow 6, Toynton Tower, Group wants to know your plan."

"Toynton, I've popped the gear free by doing a hard pull out."

Dixon's voice sounded panicked, "You can snap the gear off!"

"And that would be worse how?"

There was quiet for a moment and then the Colonel's voice came over the radio, "Yellow Lead, Toynton, follow Yellow 6's directions, see if you can free the gear."

I watched as the two planes climbed away from us and then radioed the other planes, "Yellow flight, Yellow 5; let's get on the ground while they deal with this."

I followed them around the landing pattern and set her down, once on the field we got off the runway and parked the planes next to the main hanger. I stayed in my plane and listened to the radio.

"Yellow Lead, make sure your gear lever is up." Buffy said and waited for a response, but there was only silence, "Yellow Lead, is it up?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, stay beside me; I want to see what's going on." Dixon didn't respond, I could hear the frustration developing in Buffy's voice, "Yellow Lead, steeper! Stay with me!"

"Yellow Lead, put the gear lever in the down position! Now pull up! Harder! Harder Yellow Lead! Are you a wimp?"

"What was that?!" Dixon's voice was filled with panic.

"Your gear is down! Throttle back!" A minute later Buffy added, "Okay, both your wheels are down, do you have lock lights?"

"Yes."

"Both your main gear tires are flat. It's going to be a rough landing, you have to keep her on the pierced steel; if you go off you'll ground loop her for sure."

A couple minutes later I saw the two Lightnings reappear, Buffy flew a loose formation off of Dixon's wing until he was on final approach and then pulled away from him. She kept abreast of him as he settled onto the runway. I watched as he touched down and saw the plane shudder and vibrate, the flat tires smoking and shredding as he slowly decelerated. He was having a tough time keeping her straight, Buffy's voice came over the radio, "Yellow Lead, keep her on the runway!"

Then he veered off and as soon as the main gear went off the pierced steel it dug in and the plane spun around, throwing up a cloud of dust. As the dust cleared I could see that the main gear leg that had dug in had collapsed and the Lightning was sitting tilted to one side, resting on a wing tip.

Buffy was down a couple of minutes later, keeping to the far side of the runway to avoid the crash. She taxied up to where we were parked and came to a stop, ground crew darted out to chock her wheels. I walked over and stood in front of her plane as she shut it down and then climbed out of the cockpit. She walked to the aft edge of the wing and dropped off, then ducked under the wing and came up and stood beside me and gazed over at Dixon's plane. Ground crewmen were swarming over the wreck and Dixon was standing a little way from it, "Jesus, that guy can't fly worth shit."

I nodded, "And he bent her."

Buffy looked up at me, "You care more about the plane than him?"

I grinned at her, "In this case, yes."

"Yeah, I have to agree with you."

A jeep came driving across the field from the Manor house and stopped by the wreck, after a moment Dixon climbed into the passenger seat. The jeep took off toward us and pulled up a moment later, "Colonel wants to see you ladies," said Sergeant Halloran, the Colonel's admin sergeant.

"Be right there," Buffy said as she ducked under her plane and opened the luggage hatch and got out her gear bag. Mine was already at my feet with all my stuff in it. She trotted back over and climbed into the back of the jeep, still festooned with her flying gear. She started taking the gear off and stuffing it into her bag as we drove across the field to the Manor house.

We pulled to a stop and climbed out, and then waited while Dixon took his gear off and dumped it on the seat in the jeep, "Take care of that Sergeant." He said as he spun on his heels and started up the stone stairs into the building.

Buffy had finished putting her stuff in her gear bag and we followed along behind, I saw the Sergeant shake his head in disgust. He followed us into the Manor house and down the hall into the group office; he flipped the keys to the jeep to a private sitting in a chair by the door. "Take the jeep out back over to the equipment shed and turn in Lieutenant Dixon's gear; then get back here."

Colonel Miller was standing at his office door and he did not look happy, he scowled at us and snarled, "All of you, in here!"

We followed Dixon into his office; Sergeant Halloran brought up the rear and closed the door behind us. The Colonel was in his seat behind his desk, Buffy and I walked up stood at attention beside Dixon while Halloran stood off to the side.

"All right, what the hell happened?"

Both Buffy and Dixon started to talk at once, then stopped and glared at each other, finally Buffy shrugged, "Go ahead, sir."

Dixon turned back to the Colonel, "Sir, my right landing gear jammed and wouldn't extend properly. Lieutenant Summers had me dive the plane and then release the landing gear and pull up sharply, exerting too much force on the landing gear; it collapsed when I landed resulting in extensive damage to the aircraft. You couldn't really expect too much else."

Buffy was starting to turn red with fury; the Colonel shot her a stern glance, "Rein it in, Lieutenant Summers."

"Wha… yes, sir." Buffy visibly took control of herself; she tore her glare from Dixon and stood rigidly at attention staring at a spot on the wall above the Colonel's head.

"Lieutenant Summers, you stated that you had dealt with a similar in flight emergency previously."

"Yes, sir."

"What happened?"

"On a flight from the factory to March Field I had a similar thing happen, but in my case it was the left main gear that jammed. I was able to free the gear by diving and then climbing sharply. I landed, both tires were flat but I was able to control the landing and there was only minor damage to the aircraft."

"What damage?"

"Obviously the tires were destroyed along with the wheel rims. There was also a cracked fitting on the right main gear that had to be replaced."

I spoke up, "It was the fitting that has to be checked anytime there is a hard landing, tech spec 42-1119 covers it. The fitting seems to be a weak point in the P-38s main gear."

Dixon glared, "See, I said that it would put too much stress on the gear!"

Buffy glared up at him, "Your gear didn't collapse until you let her get away from you and went off the pierced steel. I warned you to stay on the runway!"

"It did not…"

"Lieutenant!" the Colonel snapped, "Hold your mouth! We all saw your crash; the gear didn't collapse until you went off the runway."

Dixon stared at the Colonel in shock; the Colonel returned his gaze for a minute then turned back to Buffy, "Was it ever determined why your gear jammed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come on!" he snapped.

"There is a brace at the back of the main wheel well; when the outer wings are removed the brace has to be taken out. The left and right side braces are mirrors of each other but they'll fit on either side. They aren't that well marked and sometimes they get reversed when they are put back in. If they are reversed they puncture the tires when the gear is retracted and sometimes they jam the gear. That's what happened to me and I'll bet it's what happened to Dixon's plane."

"Sir," I said, "There's supposed to be a tech spec coming out on the problem with an alteration to the brace to keep them from being installed incorrectly but I haven't seen it yet."

"You knew about this problem?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Sir! I've told all the maintenance people about the problem."

Sergeant Halloran interjected, "The Lieutenant told me about it and asked me to add it to the group's maintenance warnings; it was added two days ago."

Buffy added, "And she warned them about it on the train trip down."

The Colonel looked at Dixon, "Did you hear that warning?"

He paused for a moment, "Uh, she said something about a brace…"

"Weren't you paying attention?"

Buffy snarled before he could speak, "He was too busy taking a nap, or acting like it anyway."

Dixon didn't say anything; he locked his eyes on the wall behind the Colonel. The Colonel sat back in his chair and his eyes went from Buffy to Dixon and back again and then to Sergeant Halloran, "Get the maintenance Chief in here and the other pilots from the ferry flight."

The sergeant left and we three stood uncomfortably while the Colonel sat back in his chair and contemplated us. After a couple of minutes Halloran was back, "Colonel, the maintenance chief will be here in about five, I've got the other pilots out here."

"Okay, send them in one at a time. You three, over there." He said and pointed to the side of his office. We moved over there and stood against the wall. In a minute Harper marched into the office and up to the desk where he saluted the Colonel, "2nd Lieutenant Harper, reporting as ordered."

The Colonel returned his salute, "Did Lieutenant Thompson brief you on things to watch out for on the ferry flight?"

"Yes sir."

"What things?"

Harper started rattling off the things I had talked about; he got the first couple and then started to stumble. He looked a little worried but then braced himself, "Sir, if I can check my notes?"

"You needed notes?"

"Uh, yes sir. It was a lot of stuff."

The Colonel waved his hand in a 'come on' gesture and Harper dug a notebook out of a pocket on the leg of his flight coveralls. He started to read what he had noted when the Colonel stopped him, "Give me that."

Harper handed him the notebook and the Colonel glanced at it, he quickly read down the page and then flipped to the next page, he handed the notebook back, "What's the last entry mean?"

Harper looked at his notebook for a moment then looked up, "Uh, Miss… Lieutenant Thompson told us to be especially careful to check a brace in the back of the wheel well. If it was wrong it could jam…"

Harper came to a stop and looked over at us; his eyes went to Dixon and then to me, "Go on."

Harper snapped back to the Colonel, after a moment he went on, "… She said it would flatten our tires and could jam the main gear so it wouldn't lower. And she told us how to tell if the brace was installed on the wrong side."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. You're dismissed, send in the next officer."

Kendricks and Slovowski said basically the same thing although Kendricks hadn't taken notes and had a tough time remembering everything but when he was prompted he didn't have any problem explaining the check required of the brace. The maintenance Chief came in with Kendricks and then left with him, he was back by the time Slovowski had finished.

The Colonel looked at him as he came into the office as Slovowski left, "Chief, you seem to have picked up on where this is going, anything to add?"

"Yes sir, I just checked, the damned braces are swapped on Dixon's aircraft."

"Chief, did you see the maintenance warning about those braces?"

"Yes, sir, yesterday, I've got it on my list to add to the checks we perform anytime we mess with the wings or gear on the planes but I haven't briefed the pilots on it yet."

"See sir, we were never told…" Dixon said.

"You were told by Lieutenant Thompson on your way down there to get the planes, every other pilot that was with you remembers that warning explicitly."

"But sir!"

"But what, Lieutenant?"

"She's a… she's a woman sir?"

At this point Buffy couldn't restrain herself anymore, she turned to me, "Barb? You're a woman? When the hell did that happen?"

"Lieutenant Summers!" The Colonel roared.

Buffy turned to him, "Yes sir? Did you hear? Lieutenant Thompson's a woman! Can we have a party, sir?"

"SUMMERS!"

Buffy popped rigidly to attention and didn't say anything else. The Colonel glared at her and I saw the sweat start to pop out on her forehead, on the other side of her I saw the start of a nasty grin from Dixon but then his face went blank.

"Summers, I'll deal with you shortly. Dixon, you're relieved of duty and barred from flying any aircraft until further notice. You're restricted to barracks until I decide what the fuck I'm going to do with you. Now get the hell out of here."

Dixon left the office, as the door opened I could see the other three pilots and half a dozen clerks from the group office scurrying away from the door. The Colonel must have noticed the same thing because he yelled out, "This isn't a damn show – get back to work!" before Sergeant Halloran shut the door behind Dixon.

"Chief, should he have been able to handle that aircraft on our runway?"

The chief was an old flying sergeant, although medically disqualified from flying anymore everyone recognized his expertise, "He damn well should have. We start getting battle damage the pilots are going to be landing with one tire blown and the other not, that's a hell of a lot harder than having both tires blown."

"What about Lieutenant Summers solution?"

"It was a good idea, unless you really screw it up you won't damage the gear. The gear on Dixon's plane wasn't damaged getting it down, that main fitting cracked when the gear leg dug into the dirt."

"And you can tell that because?"

"Because of where the crack is, sir."

"Okay, chief." He looked over at us and then back to the Chief, "What do you think of the Lieutenants?"

"Sir?"

"What do you think of them?"

"Lieutenant Thompson's an excellent pilot and a hell of a maintenance officer. Lieutenant Summers is a hell of a pilot but I wouldn't trust her with a wrench within ten feet of one of my aircraft."

"Why not?"

"She breaks things."

"It was one bolt, and the damned thing was sticking me in the back!"

"It wouldn't have been sticking you in the back if you hadn't been trying to sleep on the work bench, Miss."

"Okay, enough!" The Colonel said. "Jesus, people get around you Summers and they start acting like children."

"Sorry, sir."

The Colonel looked at us for another moment, "Okay, this incident is over with. I'll deal with Dixon, the rest of you get back to work.

17


	15. Chapter 15: Squadron

Three weeks after the incident with Dixon I brought my P-38 in for a landing, Buffy on my tail, we were coming back from a long day of being the 'enemy' and flying against the 609th. I taxied up to the revetment where my plane spent her time when I wasn't flying; the Colonel had assigned two of the spare planes permanently to us so we didn't have to go searching for rides.

I shut her down and started unsnapping and unhooking myself from the oxygen system, radios, parachutes and other miscellaneous pieces of equipment. Now that I had a permanent plane I left all the flying gear in the cockpit, ready for the next time I took her up. I climbed wearily out of the cockpit; my crew chief was on the wing waiting for me, "How's she holding up, sir?"

"She's doing good, chief; nothing to report."

"We'll check her over and clean her up then."

I nodded and walked to the rear of the wing and dropped off, he called after me, "The Colonel's having an all pilots meeting in the ball room in half an hour and he said to be sure that you and Lieutenant Summers were there."

"Got it, chief."

Half an hour later Buffy and I had changed out of our sweat soaked flying coveralls and into a fresh uniform. We were still wearing Buffy's version of a uniform, men's officer's slacks and shirts tailored to our shape complete with neck tie, dress shoes, and our leather flying jackets. I'd managed to get a new jacket from the group stores to replace the one that had gotten sliced the day we had arrived in Scotland. We'd switched to standard officer's caps instead of the soft caps we had worn before; we tried not to stand out from the rest of the pilots in any way.

We walked into the ball room, quite literally the Manor house ball room, almost all the pilots from the group were there and the last few drifted in shortly after we arrived. The room was full of chairs arranged in rows facing the stage on the far side; there was a wide aisle down the middle so the room felt like a chapel.

Buffy and I stayed by the back wall, Franklin and Harper came over to us. Franklin was in the 609th and we'd been flying against him most of the day, he was one of the most junior pilots but also one of the most promising as far as I was concerned. Harper was in the 611th but they seemed to be particular buddies. We talked about the afternoon's exercises and what had gone wrong, very little, and what had gone right, a lot.

A few minutes later the Colonel came into the room, Buffy's voice echoed around the large room, "Attention on deck!"

Everybody popped to attention, I noticed a couple sergeants with side arms close the door behind him and they seemed to be taking up guard stations outside. The Colonel started to walk down the central aisle but then stopped and came back to Buffy and I. He looked us in the eye and in a very quiet voice, almost a whisper, said "I hope you were serious about what you said when we first met."

At first I couldn't think of what he was talking about, Buffy was quicker on the up take and replied quietly, "Yes, sir."

He looked at me and I nodded in agreement. He headed up the aisle between the seats; he stepped up on the stage and turned to face us, "Take your seats, gentlemen," he looked back at us and added, "and you too, ladies."

Buffy and I slipped into a couple seats in the last row. He waited until everyone was seated, "I've got some news, people. What I say here today isn't to go beyond this room, understand?"

He waited for the murmur of ascent to die away before he continued, "It appears the Germans were well aware of the Russian's plans to attack them, they let the Russians penetrate their lines twenty or thirty miles and then sprang a trap. They have wiped out the entire Russian attacking force and for the last three days they've been advancing steadily across the Russian portion of what used to be Poland, now they are into Soviet territory proper and seem to be advancing easily at a rate of 25 to 50 miles a day across the entire front."

There were gasps of astonishment and voices raised in consternation at the news. The Colonel gave them a minute to quiet down and then continued, "The Russians are screaming for help and we're going to have to try to apply some pressure on the Germans from this side. I've just received orders to detail off some of our more experienced personnel to form a new fighter group. Major Hickey, come up here."

Major Hickey was the CO of the 612th and the senior squadron commander, when he got up on stage the Colonel handed him a small box. As he opened it I saw a flash of silver, "Congratulations, Colonel, you're going to be forming the new group."

He turned back to the crowd, he started calling out names and soon there were half a dozen more officers up on stage, including the CO of the 611th squadron. "Colonel, these are your core, you'll be getting the rest of your complement over the next couple of weeks. They're going to set you up on a new airfield up near Gainsborough. I've got transportation laid on so you can get started now. Good luck, men."

The Colonel shook the hands of each man as they went past him and walked down the aisle and out of the room. As soon as they were gone the Colonel turned back to us, "We've lost quite a few senior personnel, all of you are going to have to step up and fill their shoes. Captain Christianson, you're CO of the 612th."

"Yes, sir."

He identified several other officers to fill in the other positions in the 609th and 612th squadrons. I was thinking about the 611th, he hadn't done anything about it. Besides losing the CO and its maintenance officer today, Dixon had been its executive officer and I hadn't heard of a replacement for him. They were really hurting. Then I heard the Colonel call out, "Lieutenant Summers, Lieutenant Thompson."

I was jerked out of my reverie, he was looking at us. Buffy gave me a shove and I got up and started walking up the long aisle, what the hell was going on now? I got to the stage and stepped up on it and came to attention facing the Colonel, next to me Buffy came to a stop, she stood rigidly facing the Colonel. He handed Buffy a small box and then offered her his hand, when she took it he said in a loud voice, "Congratulations, Captain Summers."

I looked down as Buffy flipped the box open with her thumb; a pair of silver Captain's bars, railroad tracks in army nomenclature, gleamed up at us. Then the Colonel was standing in front of me and holding out a matching box. I took it and then took his hand as he said, "Congratulations, Captain Thompson."

"Thank you, sir." I managed to mumble as thoughts raced through my mind. We'd been promoted to 1st Lieutenant less than six months ago, we had been commissioned in October and now it was June, just over eight months. No one made it to Captain in eight months!

The Colonel turned to face the crowd of pilots, "Now that these officers have the rank commiserate with their skills and abilities I can give them the assignments they should have.

He looked over at Buffy and asked her the last question I ever expected to hear, "Captain Summers, how many swastikas should be painted on the side of your aircraft?"

"Sir?" Buffy managed to choke out.

"It's a simple question, Captain."

"Uh, twelve, sir." She spoke in barely a whisper and I doubt if anyone beyond the front row could have heard her, especially with the rising rumble coming from the pilots.

"I don't think they heard you, Captain!"

"Twelve, sir!" Buffy said in a loud clear voice. The room went dead silent for about ten seconds and then erupted in a roar of shouted questions and exclamations.

The Colonel's voice split the din, "QUIET!"

When silence returned he turned to me, "And you, Captain Thompson?"

"Eight, sir." I managed to get out in a fairly controlled voice; at least I didn't think I squeaked.

"Have your crew chiefs get your aircraft appropriately marked by tomorrow."

The Colonel turned to the assembled pilots, "Captain Summers will be assuming command of the 611th effective immediately; Captain Thompson will be XO and maintenance officer."

A voice from the middle of the room called out, I recognized Harper's voice, "Sir, what happens when we go operational?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"Uh… Who's going to replace them?"

"No one."

"But, sir… they're…"

I saw Franklin elbow him sharply in the side; then Franklin called out, "Sir?"

The Colonel saw who it was, "Yes, Franklin, you can have your kills painted on your aircraft also."

"Thank you, sir. But that wasn't what I was asking."

"What, then?"

"Can I transfer to the 611th?"

Murmurs that were running through the crowd became even louder. The Colonel yelled over the rising level of noise, "And why would you want to do that, Lieutenant Franklin?"

Franklin waited for a moment to let the noise diminish before responding, "Because I want to shoot down Krauts sir, and if I fly with Captain Summers I know that's what I'll be doing."

The Colonel thought for a moment; then said, "You can have your transfer; the 611th is short handed, but you get up here and brief the men on our ferry flight over here."

"Sir?"

"Lieutenant, get up here and tell them what happened when we got here."

Franklin slowly walked up the aisle and onto the stage. It was clear he wasn't comfortable addressing all the people but once he got into the story of our arrival he warmed to it. It was tough standing there next to him as he told the story; I glanced over at Buffy and saw she was staring at the floor in front of her. I elbowed her and whispered, "Don't act like he's telling a tall tale!"

She jerked her head up and looked at me for a moment and then gave a resolute little nod and started looking at the crowd in front of us, meeting the men's eyes as she scanned their ranks. I turned my attention to the same thing and tried to ignore what Franklin was saying.

A couple minutes later he came to the end with, "… and then Buffy escorted Barb back to the RAF field, her plane was pretty shot up and Barb was wounded but fortunately not too bad."

There was silence for several moments and then a voice came out of the crowd, "No fucking way…"

The Colonel spoke firmly over the rising murmur, quieting the men, "Gentlemen that was my introduction to Lieutenants Summers and Thompson, and everything Lieutenant Franklin just told you is the absolute truth. Most of you have flown against Captain Summers; I want any of you who have gotten hits on her, confirmed by your gun cameras, to raise your hand."

When we were flying combat exercises and practicing dog fights we flew with empty guns but with the gun cameras loaded. After the exercise the film from the gun cameras would be analyzed, the film would confirm 'hits' on the opposing aircraft. How many hits, how much 'damage' would have been caused depended on three things: where the sighting ring in the camera showed our bullets would have been hitting, how long we held the camera on target, and the range we were shooting at.

He waited several moments, looking over the crowd but no one raised their hand. I could see the pilots looking around and also seeing that no one was raising their hand, "I didn't think so," he said, then turned to Buffy, "Captain, I know you've been holding back, to what extent of your abilities have you been flying during the exercises?"

"Sir!?"

"Captain Summers answer the question." Buffy looked a little chagrinned and looked down at the floor; then mumbled something, "Louder, Captain."

She looked up at him, "Seventy five, maybe eighty percent, sir."

"Why?"

"Uh… you can't just start in the advanced course; you have to work up to it. They have to learn, to get the ability to see what is happening, to develop situational awareness, to be able to know at a glance how all the aircraft in the area are moving relative to them. To be able to tell which ones are threats, which ones are targets, and which ones are just cluttering the sky for the moment. If I just go full speed at them they won't know what's happening, they'll just be lost. And they won't learn anything. Even worse it can break them, make them loose confidence in their own abilities."

There was a snigger from one of the pilots in the front row, before the Colonel could say anything Franklin snapped out, "Jones, she'd shoot you down so fast you'd never know what hit you. I've beaten you every time we've gone against each other, it hasn't been close, and I haven't gotten a gun on Lieut… Captain Summers yet!"

The Colonel spoke up, "You all know I flew with an eagle squadron for four months last summer. I flew with a lot of very good pilots and I flew against a lot of very tough Germans. None of them could hold a candle to Captain Summers and very few could match Captain Thompson."

There were murmurs among the pilots and the Colonel let it go on for a few minutes. I could hear some of the comments the pilots were making amongst themselves, I concentrated on the discussion occurring just in front of me by three officers of the 609th, two of them had been in the first contingent to arrive after us, the other one was brand new, I hadn't ever met him.

"No way – they're women for Christ sakes!" The new guy said.

"Shit! You've never flown against either of them."

"Man, one day I got some hits on Thompson, analysis said 'minor damage to outer wing', then she was gone and Summers was on top of me! I don't know how the hell she got to me; when I started my pass Thompson was flying on her wing. Just before I opened up Thompson broke, that's why I only got her wing tip. I tried to follow her and Summers came out of nowhere and put three seconds into my cockpit, she wasn't 50 feet away when she dove under me."

"Yeah," the other experienced man added, "I don't know how many times I've been in the middle of a scrap and I hear this sweet little voice in my ear, 'bang - you're dead', I look around and all I can see is her pretty smile and the muzzles of her guns before she's gone again."

The Colonel called out bringing the room to quiet, "Men, don't think I made this decision lightly. I have as much concern as any of you about putting these women into combat, but I've seen what they can do. They are better, at this time, than any of you. We need their ability and their expertise both to train you and to get you through your introduction to combat. A disturbingly high percentage of pilots are lost on their rookie flights."

"I also know that when this gets out the shit is really going to hit the fan. That is on my head, you keep your mouths shut!" His gaze traveled over all the pilots in the room, "We'll be having squadron meetings this evening and I want the squadron COs to make sure all of your men know to keep their mouths shut."

He let that settle in; then stepped off the stage and headed for the door, as he passed the new CO of the 612th he said something to him.

"Attention on deck," Captain Christianson's sharp command brought everyone to their feet. Once the Colonel was out the door he yelled out, "Dismissed."

Everyone started talking; the sound of arguments and heated discussions filled the room. Then Buffy's strong command voice cut through the din, "611th on me!"

Once all the pilots of the 611th had assembled in front of the stage Buffy looked at them for several moments, "Have any of you got a problem taking orders from me or Captain Thompson?"

A couple of the men looked vaguely uncomfortable as she looked into each of their eyes but no one said anything. She gave a short sharp nod, "Okay then, I want everyone in the squadron in the hanger in half an hour. You guys get your ground crewmen to the hanger; Barb, get the squadron HQ admin personnel out there."

She looked at them for a moment, "Did anyone hear me?"

There was a mixture of "Yes, ma'am" and "Yes, sir" from them.

Buffy snorted, "I am not a 'ma'am', my mother might be but not me. Let's just pretend I've got a set of balls like everyone else and we'll go with 'sir' or 'captain'."

Franklin spoke up, "Yes, sir, but no one's got a set of balls as big as yours, sir!"

Buffy looked at him in shock for a moment and his face started to freeze, then she grinned at him, before looking back at the rest of the pilots, "Yeah, and don't any of you limp dicks forget it!"

The next morning I was at the desk in the small office area on the side of the hanger we, that is the 611th fighter squadron was assigned. I still couldn't believe I was actually the XO of a fighter squadron! The men had taken the briefing, more the revelation, that Buffy was their new squadron CO without any problem that I could tell. They had actually seemed pleased when she had told them I was the XO and maintenance officer for the squadron. I'd worked with them getting the planes ready as they had come in so I guess they were used to working with me. There was a rap on the door frame to the office and I looked up to see the squadron maintenance chief, Master Sergeant Gunderson, standing at the door with his cap in his hand, he was twisting it and appeared nervous or embarrassed, I couldn't tell which; maybe a combination of both?

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Uh… ma'am… There's something I think you should see."

Definitely some embarrassment, he was blushing, "I'm in agreement with the CO; I don't think I'm old enough to be a 'ma'am', Sergeant – so how about 'sir', or 'Captain', or even, 'XO'?"

"Yes, sir… I still think you should see this right away."

"Okay, Sergeant," I got up from the desk and followed him out of the office; he paused for a moment while I caught up and then we walked out of the hanger together. He led me down the taxiway until we came to the revetment where Buffy's plane was stored and he turned into it. As I followed him into the area I saw a couple of the crewmen were standing gazing up at the nose of her P-38, it was head on to me so I couldn't see what they were looking at. I walked over to them and what they were looking at so intently became visible.

Painted on the nose of her aircraft was an attractive blond, I looked closer and saw it was a very good likeness of Buffy. It depicted her as an archer with the bow partially drawn with an arrow nocked, her eyes scanning the horizon for a target. Underneath the drawing in cursive script was 'The Slayer'. As I looked closer I realized that she was very scantily clad. She had nothing on above the waist; long hair cascading down her chest covered some of her breasts, the nipples at least, although the shape and form of her breasts were clearly depicted. She was wearing some form of diaphanous pantaloon like pants, her legs clearly visible through them. The position of her body concealed some of her bush and the part that would have been visible was masked by the lower portion of the bow crossing over it. I stared at the painting for a long time and then said, "Jesus H. Christ!"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the two crewmen realize I was standing next to them, they popped to attention, their hands coming to their foreheads, the younger one turning bright red as he tried to speak, "Uh… Oh… so… sorry, ma'am"

I waved my hand casually to my forehead and snapped, "Carry on!"

I continued to examine the painting; it was definitely of Buffy, although something was not quite right. I looked at the wider view and noticed up close to the cockpit were two rows of six red rectangles, standing out from the dull green of the plane's camouflage paint. Each rectangle had a white circle with a black swastika in it, the miniature flags representing her confirmed kills. I stepped closer, examining the detail of the painting. Whoever had painted it was a hell of an artist.

I heard voices behind me, I recognized Franklin's voice but I couldn't make out the words. Whatever he had said elicited a response from someone else, Harper I realized, and a sharp snort from a third person. And then I heard Buffy's voice clearly as they came into the revetment, "… if you concentrate too much on one thing something else is going to bite you in the ass."

I glanced over as Buffy came up to us, "Morning, Barb, you were out early…"

Her voice trailed off as she turned and saw what we were looking at. There was dead silence and then a loud wolf whistle from Franklin, followed by, "God! Ain't she a look…"

His statement cut off with a gasp as Harper elbowed him in the side. Buffy looked at the painting intently, then stepped closer, her head cocked to one side and then the other as she took it in. Finally she shrugged her shoulders slightly and said, "Well, you can tell I didn't sit for it."

I was shocked at her acceptance of it; I'd expected her to explode. Harper hazarded a questioned, "Why not, sir?"

"Look at me, my tits aren't nearly that big! Sometimes I wish they were - but then I don't know; they might be a real pain if they were."

Harper started to laugh and then cut it off, Buffy glanced over at him, "If you're laughing at my tits, Lieutenant, you are going to be very sorry."

Harper stared at her in shock; then managed to squeak out, "NO, sir!"

Buffy turned back to the painting, "That's good."

She looked at it for a while longer then said, "Well, at least they'll still be guessing if I'm a natural blond or not."

Gunderson finally seemed to recover, "Sir, I'll get that off right away." He turned to the two ground crewmen, "Go get some wire brushes and get to work…"

Buffy turned to him and cut him off, "Don't you dare! Anybody touches that they'll have to answer to me!"

I looked at her in shock, "Buffy?"

"What? I'll take that as a complement from these guys any day of the week." She turned back to the painting, after gazing at it for awhile she nodded her head in satisfaction. "Chief, I think I'll borrow another plane for today, let that get good and dry." She turned her attention to the two ground crewmen, "You guys can wax it tomorrow morning to protect it, we don't want to risk messing it up."

The two ground crewmen looked at her wide eyed, then the senior one nodded as a grin spread over his face, "Yes, ma'am."

"I keep telling you guys to knock off the 'ma'am' shit, find something else."

"Yes, Skipper," the younger one said.

"Good," Buffy nodded, she turned to the chief, "Whenever you get a chance send the artist by, I'd like to thank him personally."

"Yes sir."

"Chief, got another plane I could use for today?"

"Uh, 42307 is ready for a check ride. I was going to have someone take her up today."

"Good, I'll give her the check ride."

Buffy turned and headed out, then stopped to look back at Harper and Franklin who were still staring up at the painting, "Come on you two, we've only got an hour or so before we have to get to the regular training program. Unless you two are having second thoughts about going up against me two on one?"

"No, skipper!" They chorused as they trotted after her.

The chief looked after them and then turned to me, "Looks like she's already got two acolytes, sir."

I nodded in agreement, "Is she… are we going to have problems with some of the other pilots in the squadron?"

He looked at me for a moment and then shrugged, "There may be one or two with their noses a little bent out of shape, but I think they'll come around pretty quick if she keeps handling herself like she has been."

"And?"

He shook his head, "I don't think you'll have a problem. She's the one in charge, if she makes it work it will."

I nodded and looked back at the plane, a thought struck and I spoke out loud without realizing it, "How did he know to name her the Slayer?"

"Sir?" the chief said, "The men have been calling her 'the Slayer' for the last week, ever since you chewed her out over the radio. I believe your words were 'I'll get you back for that you damn Slayer!'"

"You heard that?"

"Just about everybody did, sir. They had the tower radio monitor piped through the loud speakers."

7


	16. Chapter 16: Down

It had been six weeks since Buffy had taken command of the squadron, a little over five weeks since we went operational under the impetuous of the German onslaught into Russia. The Luftwaffe had stopped offensive action in our area; we thought most of their bombers had been transferred to the eastern front.

We started taking long swings across Holland, Belgium, and northern France. At first the German fighters had swarmed up to meet us, but after getting the worst of it for three weeks they had stopped reacting. Buffy's ability to lead and fight the squadron, or the entire group for that matter, was no longer in doubt. The 611th had the highest kill count of any USAAF squadron in England, higher than most of the British squadrons who had been fighting since the war started.

We had lost two pilots killed; one crashed while taking off when he lost an engine and the other one no one knew what happened. He was a rookie and got separated during a wild melee the entire group was involved in along with fifty or sixty Germans. We had also lost a couple to wounds they'd gotten from enemy fire, one flak and one from a 109, but the flak wound was supposed to be back this week.

The other squadrons of the group had higher casualty rates but nowhere near what most squadrons that had seen the amount of action we had. Our squadron had also lost three pilots when the Colonel rotated them into the other squadrons; he wanted their experience of how Buffy led to be spread throughout the group. That and the experience everybody in the group got when Buffy led the group had started to get her techniques working in the other squadrons. None of them were as skilled at them as we were but they were getting pretty good.

As much as I regretted it I thought we'd be losing Franklin and Harper pretty soon also, they were the best after Buffy in leading the squadron in attack and I had noticed Buffy letting them lead more and more in the last couple of days. I think she was grooming them, that and the fact that the Colonel had promoted both of them to 1st Lieutenant well ahead of their expected promotion date.

Buffy and the rest of the squadron had racked up kills at an incredible rate. Because we knew that eventually we were going to be found out and the shit was going to hit the fan we, the entire group for that matter, were very strict on crediting kills. There had to be gun camera confirmation, eye witness accounts were not used for kills. Still, Buffy had 43 confirmed kills, and probably twice that many in reality. I was still second, barely, with 24 but Franklin was right behind me with 23 and Harper was chasing him with 19. Four other pilots were at least double aces, and six were aces. Of the other four pilots in the squadron three had just joined and were getting their feet wet, they'd all gotten their first kill the day before. The other one had been with us two weeks but had missed a week due to some kind of nasty upper chest cold, now he had three kills and was coming on strong.

Finding Germans to shoot down was becoming more of a problem, they seemed to be scarce whenever we were around and other groups were reporting similar problems. For the last week we had tried some different tactics to get them to come up and meet us. We had tried shooting up their airfields, but they had heavy antiaircraft defenses and their planes were well protected in revetments. The 612th had tried to get the field at Abbeville and had gotten mauled, they lost three planes. We thought at least a couple of the pilots had gotten out but didn't know if they survived. Four other planes were so shot up from flak that they were written off, and two of the pilots had major wounds. They had claimed eight German planes destroyed on the ground but some of those were questionable. I thought the way a couple of them went up they were decoys. The Colonel had decided to leave airfields alone for now, we would try some other way to get the Germans to come up and play with us.

Today we were out with the 609th; they were providing cover for us since we left with each plane in the 611th carrying two five hundred pound bombs on the hard points under the inboard wing sections. The thought was that if we raised some hell we might get the Germans to come up. We had flown east across the North Sea and stayed low as we crossed the coast into Germany to the west of Bremerhaven on the way to Bremen. While we wanted to meet the Germans we didn't want to meet them while we were carrying bombs, and we didn't want to just dump them; after carrying them all that way we wanted to do something useful with them. We had plastered the marshalling yards on the southern edge of Bremen, everybody but Buffy and her wingman dropping their bombs on a cluster of freight trains. Some major secondary explosions convinced us that a couple of the trains had munitions on board.

Buffy had lead us further south, following a major set of tracks and we found a train heading south at high speed. Buffy and her wingman had gone in ahead of us; she had us trail her about a minute behind. As the train come into view I could see her bombs had gotten the engine and the flak car behind the engine, both were destroyed. There were half a dozen freight cars behind them on their sides beside the tracks, derailed when she blew up the engine and flak car. At the other end of the long train her wingman had dropped his bombs on another flak car; its twisted wreckage lay on its side. As we were coming in Buffy and her wingman were coming back from the opposite side, their machine gun and canon fire chewing up the third and final flak car in the middle of the train.

Starting from the front of the train there had originally been what looked like a dozen freight cars followed by another dozen or so passenger cars. After the middle flak car the rest of the train consisted of flatbed cars with armored vehicles on them. It looked like an entire panzer brigade was on the train. As we came in Buffy and her wingman pulled away, the flak car a silenced smoking ruin. I could see grey uniformed bodies boiling out of the passenger cars.

We made two strafing passes, receiving some minor fire from some of the panzers; I had Blue flight and the second element of Buffy's Red flight concentrate on the back half of the train. The fifties and even the 20mm canon would not have much effect on most of the armored vehicles; they could chew up the half tracks and some of the lighter vehicles but the rounds would just bounce off the tanks and other heavy armor. I had my Green flight and Yellow flight trailing us concentrate on the personnel and the freight cars. After our second pass Buffy ordered us to climb away and had the 609th come down and make a couple of additional passes.

By the time they were done most of the freight and passenger cars were burning and we were not receiving any more fire from anywhere on the train. Buffy ordered both squadrons to break off and we headed for home. We maintained the high position, several thousand feet above the 609th, as both squadrons climbed away from the shattered remains of the train.

We headed west over northern Holland and back toward England, maybe we could persuade some Germans from their fields around Amsterdam to come up and play with us. We were nearing the coast when a pilot from the 609th first spotted the Germans, "Pegasus Lead, Peregrine Blue Lead, bandits, eleven o'clock low."

Buffy responded instantly, "Got 'em, Peregrine, good eyes!"

We were still several thousand feet above the 609th, using 'Peregrine' as their call sign for this mission, and a mile or so behind them. I looked slightly south of our course and below our altitude and saw a cluster of black dots, it looked like thirty to forty of them. Given their size and the distance to them I couldn't be sure but I suspected they were 109s, probably a group.

Buffy came on the radio, "Peregrine, maintain course and elevation for 30, then head for them, Pegasus Green Lead, take us down and close it up."

I shoved my throttles forward as I started toward the 609th in a shallow dive, closing the distance between our two squadrons, as I answered her, "Roger, Pegasus Lead."

Our four flights were in a loose diamond formation with my Green flight in the lead with Blue and Yellow flights a couple hundred yards to either side of us and a little astern of us. Buffy's Red flight was behind us by a couple hundred yards and about five hundred feet above us. With our shallow dive and increased speed we were rapidly closing the gap between our formations. I scanned the sky in front of us and saw another group of specks in the distance, further than the first group and above and to the north of us. It looked like another group, maybe more; my voice was one of many that announced their presence, "Green Lead, we've got another group two o'clock high."

"All aircraft, Pegasus Lead, we've got something hinky going on here. Keep your eyes open."

"Pegasus Lead, Red Three, we've got company astern of us, seven o'clock high." I looked above and behind us and saw another group of specks, it looked like two squadrons separated by about half a mile, the furthest one a little further to the south.

"All right boys and girls, looks like somebody's trying to set us up. We're far enough ahead; we'll punch throw the low group and keep going." Buffy ordered calmly, "Don't dog fight, shoot anything in front of you and keep on going."

The 609th had started diving toward the lower group of Germans; we were only a half mile behind them by this time. As we neared the Germans I saw they were 109s and it was an entire group. I could see the separation of the squadrons and flights within their formation as they turned toward us. It struck me that they had waited a long time before they turned to engage, I looked behind us and it appeared the other two squadrons were catching up with us a lot faster than I would have expected.

Suddenly Buffy's voice was on the air, "SHIT! It's a trap! We've got 190s coming at us! Peregrine – full throttle, don't worry about kills just blast your way through!"

We had heard about the new Focke-Wulf 190, they were supposed to be much hotter than the 109s we had been encountering but there also weren't supposed to be enough of them around yet to make a difference. I guess that intelligence estimate needed to be revised. The 190s had radial engines so their silhouette was different from any other German fighter; blunt nosed instead of the pointed nose of the 109. Whatever other characteristics of the FW-190 had they certainly seemed to have a lot better dive speed than the 109s, at least I hoped it was just dive speed and not overall speed or we were in a world of shit.

Now we had two squadrons of them on our tails while 109s were trying to block us, with 30 plus more fighters coming at us from the north and the 190s on our tails catching up much faster than expected we were liable to get our asses shot off. Buffy's voice came over the radio, "Green Lead, follow Peregrine through and keep on going! Red flight, on me!"

Franklin's voice came on the radio, "Blue flight, on me, we'll support Red flight."

Buffy snapped back instantly, "Negative Blue flight! You stay with the squadron."

I glanced to the rear and saw Buffy and her flight had reversed their course and were heading straight for the enemy fighters diving toward us, much closer than they should have been. I saw Franklin's Blue flight was banked in a steep turn to follow them; Franklin hesitated for a second and then snap rolled and dove after us, his flight following him around. One of the things about Buffy that had surprised me when she took command of the squadron was her absolute insistence on instant obedience when in combat. She was easy going around the base, willing to take a lot more guff off of those under her than most COs. She would tolerate an amazing amount of back talk and questions; she even seemed to encourage it. But once in the air she was an iron task master, she'd rip you a new one so fast it would make your head spin if you didn't do exactly what she ordered. She drilled the entire squadron to instantly follow orders during a fight. Franklin's momentary hesitation before turning back after us told me how torn he was leaving Buffy behind.

I was worried a little also, but didn't have time for more than a vague sense of dread to go through me. I was too busy trying to reacquire situational awareness of what we were headed into. The group of enemy fighters coming in from the side was closer than I expected. I could see what they were now, I sent out a general warning, "We've got 190s at two o'clock high."

Ahead the 609th was just getting through the blocking force; it looked like they'd mauled one of the German squadrons pretty good. There were close to a dozen smoke trails headed for the ground with the remnants of burning planes at their bases, at this distance I couldn't tell what they were but it looked like most of the 609th was through. I saw half a dozen chutes but only one was the bright white that we used, so somebody from the 609th hadn't made it, but the rest were all the dirty yellow of German parachutes.

The two remaining German squadrons were ignoring the fleeing 609th and closing the gap they had blasted through the formation. We were closer to the one to our right so I angled my flight toward them; I would rather meet one head on then get caught between both of them and not be able to shoot at anyone. Yellow flight conformed to my change; they were almost even with us. I glanced behind and Blue flight was still a ways back; Franklin's aborted turn to back up Buffy had slowed them down.

"Yellow Lead, Green Lead, take the lead, we're waiting for Blue."

"Roger, Green Lead."

I throttled back slightly and let Yellow flight slip in front of us. Ahead but closing rapidly I saw the Germans adjust their formation in response so they were strung out in trail like us. Ten seconds from intercept and a thought darted through my mind, I reacted without thinking about it, "Yellow flight, leap frog the first flight, hit the second one!"

Harper didn't bother trying to respond, his plane and the following members of his flight followed right with him as he suddenly climbed sharply above the lead enemy flight just as it opened fire. I could see the twinkling of the machine guns in front of the cockpits of the 109s. Like my subconscious must have thought the automatic reaction of the German's was to pull up to try to maintain their fire on Yellow flight as it flashed over them.

It was too late when they realized that they couldn't and at the same time they had presented themselves as perfect targets to my flight. Before they could shove their noses back down we opened fire. I hit both the MG and canon triggers at the same time and saw sparkling hits smashing into the belly of the lead 109, almost instantly there was a flash of a gasoline explosion and his right wing tore off and fluttered toward the ground as he tilted over into a vertical dive, flame trailing behind him.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw another German plane heading for the ground trailing a long streamer of flame. Ahead of us Yellow flight had knocked down three of the enemy planes and the fourth was diving toward the ground, either fleeing the fight or with a dead or wounded pilot.

Yellow flight flashed under the last four Germans as they concentrated on us. I centered my sight pip on the leader's spinner and opened up at a much longer range than normal. The steady gun platform of my P-38 coupled with the simple targeting solution, we were headed right at each other after all, made my fire effective. The enemy plane seemed to stagger as my concentrated fire slammed into the front of his plane and then one of my canon shells must have met one of his coming out of the muzzle of the canon that protruded through his spinner. There was an explosion right at the nose of the 109 and his entire propeller shattered; I could actually see the blades spinning away.

We were through! I glanced behind us and saw my wingmen and Blue flight behind them. Movement to my right started attracting my attention just as I heard Franklin's voice screaming in my ear, "GREEN LEAD, BREAK RIGHT! BREAK RIGHT!"

Without thinking I jerked the wheel to the right just as the sound of heavy hail inundated me. A massive fist smashed into my right thigh and a shrieking whistle filled my ears. I pulled the wheel toward me as hard as I could and at the same time chopped the throttles and then jerked down the flap handle. My plane skidded and staggered under the competing combination of forces, but after a moment the sound of heavy hail stopped, at least I wasn't taking any more hits.

Above my canopy a pale blue shape floated out in front of me, I saw the blunt nose and the black swastikas on the underside of the wing and realized it was an FW-190, I'd never seen one up close before. I pulled the flap lever back up and heard the flap motor retracting the slabs of aluminum that had slowed me. I shoved the throttles forward and raised my nose, the 190 filled my targeting ring and I pressed the triggers.

It felt like everything was in slow motion, my tracers reached out and touched the belly of the 190, hits sparkling and flashing. The heavy boom of my canon firing seemed to correspond with bright red flashes bursting on the blue field of his belly. And then there was silence, I was out of ammunition, but my fingers wouldn't release the triggers.

I watched in awe as the 190 seemed to slowly roll onto its back and then the canopy was tumbling free and a body was falling out of the cockpit, the German pilot was tucked into a tight ball. I shoved the wheel forward as everything suddenly snapped back to normal speed and he was hurtling toward me. I could see his wide eyes behind his goggles as he flew over me, not ten feet above my canopy. I waited for the heave thud of his body hitting my tail but miraculously he missed.

I wasn't so lucky when the abandoned 190 clipped my right wing tip as I went by it, jerking my plane around and sending me spinning through the sky. It was a fight to regain control, compounded by my right leg's refusal to work the rudder pedal. I was finally able to get control and leveled out at about two thousand feet. Below me there was just water, I looked around and saw the distant haze of land far behind me.

I looked around the cockpit; most of my instrument panel was shattered and a cold wind whistled through the rips and tears that peppered the right side of the cockpit. I was starting to feel a little light headed and was just gazing stupidly at the mess I was sitting in when a voice filled my right ear, "Green Lead, Green Two, are you okay?"

I shook my head and looked around; drifting up on my left was a welcome sight, another P-38. I saw Anderson, my wingman, wave at me and tap his earphone, his worried voice came to me again, "Green Lead, Green Two, do you read?"

I nodded, my mouth seemed unbearably dry and I had to swallow a couple of time before I could manage to choke out, "Green Two, read you loud and clear."

"XO, we're headed north."

I looked at the compass in the center of my instrument panel, it was shattered and oil was slowly oozing out of it and flowing down the panel. "Most of my instruments are gone, you'll have to lead."

He sounded hesitant as he responded, "Uh, sure XO."

I couldn't entirely blame him, it was his third combat sortie and the first time we'd run into anything more than some light flak. Being a little rattled wasn't out of the question. Hell, I was more than a little rattled myself. What the hell had we run into? It felt like it was almost a planned trap but that seemed a little farfetched.

It was hard to concentrate but I managed to shove things aside and thought through where we had to be, if we were headed north and the only land I could see, well had been able to see, only ocean was visible now, had been south of us. We must be over the North Sea, England had to be west of us, "Head us west with just a touch of south."

"Roger, XO."

It was a struggle following him around, I had to control the rudders with just the one leg, but I managed to do it. Once we were on course I called him, "Green Two, keep an eye out, I've got to tend to some personal business."

"XO, are you injured?"

It seemed embarrassing to admit it but he needed to know what was going on, "Yeah, got it in the leg. I need to get a bandage on it."

"Roger, XO, I'll keep my eyes peeled."

I opened the first aid kit down beside my seat and dug out the field dressing and tore it open. I didn't bother trying to get my pants clear of the wound; I just placed the pad over the large hole I could feel in the side of my thigh, almost at my hip. It was awkward getting the fabric strips around my leg one handed while trying to hold the plane steady with the other hand. After struggling for a time I came a little to my senses and took the ten seconds I needed to trim my plane so she'd fly straight and level.

I got the bandage in place and pulled the strips tight enough to hold it in place and then wrapped them around my leg and the bandage a couple more times. I tightened them down until it felt like my blood wasn't pouring out anymore. The initial shock seemed to be wearing off and it was starting to hurt like a son of a bitch. I dug back into the first aid kit and got out a morphine syrette, then put it back. I still needed to be able to fly and getting stoned on morphine wasn't going to help.

"Green Lead, Green Two."

"Go." I radioed back.

"You seem to be leaking something from your right wing."

I looked out and saw the thin streamer of white flowing out next to the aileron, the entire wing looked wrinkled. That must have been the damage caused when I clipped the abandoned FW-190. I looked at my fuel gauges and saw my right wing tanks were almost empty. I made sure the transfer valve between the left and right tanks was closed, it was. "I got tweaked pretty good - it must have ruptured a fuel tank. I'm going to lose my right engine pretty soon."

God! Was that an understatement! That wing must be just about ready to fall off. The fuel tanks were self-sealing, so there had to be major damage for them to be draining the way they were. I got another ten minutes before my right engine started missing, I warned Anderson and then cut the engine and feathered the prop.

My leg was really starting to bother me, I finally found that by jamming it against the cockpit side and wedging my foot into one of the frames beside the rudder pedal I could get some relief. The pressure seemed to ease the pain, I just hoped the cold wind shrieking around it wasn't freezing it and I'd end up with a frostbitten leg.

"XO, isn't that the coast up ahead?"

I looked ahead of us, nothing was visible, then I looked south and in the distant haze I saw the coast of England rising up out of the water. God what a welcome sight! A couple of minutes later I recognized Sheringham on the north coast of East Anglia. We adjusted our course slightly to the north and a couple of minutes later we were over Skegness and dry land.

As we neared the field I called Anderson, "Green Two, you head in I'll circle until you're down."

There was silence for a moment, "XO, I don't have a death wish – you're going straight in, I'll escort you down."

"Anderson!"

"XO, wounded first, always. I ain't explaining to Buffy why the hell you're circling with a hole in your leg and I'm on the ground!"

His mention of Buffy brought back the feeling of dread that had coursed over me as we were heading in to punch through the Germans. The last I'd seen she was leading her flight, climbing toward the swarm of 190s that were closing on our rear. She was leading four fighters with at least half their ammunition gone against twenty or more of the Kraut's newest and hottest fighter.

I was snapped out of my reverie by Anderson's call, "XO, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little spacey…" God! I was even starting to use Buffy's slang.

Ahead I could see the runway of our base, the long inviting runway waiting for me. A large number of staff cars were parked around the back of the manor house; I'd never seen that many cars on the station before. I wondered what was going on for a brief moment and then put it aside. I still needed to get on the ground in one piece. I looked around and it seemed clear so I dropped my flaps and gear. Anderson pulled to the side and a little ahead but he was still shepherding me down. As we neared the end of the runway I saw two flairs arch up from his aircraft, yellow for a damaged aircraft landing and red for wounded on board.

As I crossed the airfield boundary I saw the crash truck and ambulance accelerating out of their stations and headed toward where I would come to a stop, but I wasn't having it. I brought her in and with only one leg I didn't try to use the brakes, I chopped the throttle and just let her roll out. When she had slowed enough I tapped the brake and swung her around.

It had been dry for a week so I knew the ground off the pierced steel runway would support my plane so I pulled clear of the runway and taxied back to the hanger. The crash truck pulled along side of me, the guy in the passenger seat waving for me to stop. I shook my head and then pointed to our hanger and continued heading in that direction, after a moment the crash truck pulled away and headed back to its station. Behind me I could see the ambulance was still trailing along.

I pulled onto the apron in front of our hanger and brought her to a stop, swinging her so she was facing to the east. I looked in the sky ahead of me but could see no other aircraft, 'come on, Buffy, where the hell are you?' I asked silently.

There was a rap on my canopy and I saw Mac, my crew chief, kneeling beside the cockpit. I reached up and unlatched the canopy. As soon as it was free he jerked it open and looked down at the mess in the cockpit. I looked up at him, "Sorry, Mac, I've sort of messed up your airplane."

"Jesus, Captain, what the hell did you do? I told you to be careful out there!"

"Some other guys had a different idea."

He nodded, "Let's get you out of there."

I saw a couple of medics from the ambulance had crawled up on the wing behind Mac, one of them put a stretcher down out near the engine, "Watch it!" I yelled at him, "Can't you see the '_no walk_' signs?"

Mac snorted, "Captain, don't worry about it, you've already put more than enough holes in her, a few more won't matter."

For the first time I really looked at her, the whole inner wing section on the right side was sieved with holes, most from machine gun rounds but several larger ones from 20mm cannon fire. The outer wing was twisted and the skin wrinkled, it looked like the whole wing was bent. I shook my head in wonder and looked up at Mac, "Hell of a plane we got here."

Mac looked at the damage, "Yeah, I think you may have broken her."

"Sergeant, if you'll move out of the way we'll get him out of cockpit."

Mac looked at the medic, "Boy, I hope your knowledge of anatomy is better than your eyesight!"

The medic looked at him confused, and then looked back at me, "Oh! Sorry, ma'am, I didn't…"

"Don't worry about it; I've been called a hell of lot worse than that."

Mac moved away and the two medics moved up to the cockpit. I released the belts that were holding me in and disconnected all the other stuff. I started to push myself up in the seat and a wave of pain and nausea swept over me and I dropped back into the seat. There was a squishy splat as I landed back on the parachute that formed my seat cushion, I looked down and saw blood squirt out from under me.

"Jesus! How much blood have you lost?!" the medic asked.

I was feeling light headed again, the movement had started the world spinning, "Quite a bit, I guess."

"Here, let us get you out."

I felt hands under my armpits and he started to pull me out when I let out a very unmanly scream, then I managed to gasp out, "Hold it! My legs stuck!"

He let me back down into the seat and I tried to pull my foot out of the frame I had jammed it in earlier but it wouldn't come out. I couldn't exert a lot of force because of the wound; I tried to wiggle my foot and nearly passed out. Using my hands to try to pull my leg free didn't do anything but send shooting pains through my leg. Mac was back up beside me and looked down in the cockpit and saw where my boot was jammed, "Shit, there's a chunk of metal jammed into it."

By craning my neck I could see where a barb shaped chunk of torn aluminum beam was hooked into the leather of the flying boot. I tried moving my foot to the side and I could feel the cold metal poking my skin. "Yeah, and it's about to stick me, Mac. I think I've got enough holes in me as it is."

Mac nodded and looked at the two medics, they were both big men and there wasn't a lot of room in a P-38 cockpit to begin with. He glanced around and suddenly yelled out, "DUSTY, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

A moment later another of my ground crew, Dusty Flagger, was crawling up on the wing. He was the smallest man in our squadron, probably the smallest in the entire group and I didn't think he was over fourteen years old, but he'd gotten past the Army doctors some way and he did his job. Considering my position I didn't worry about him too much, it wasn't like he was going to see any more action than the average English civilian and a hell of a lot less than the average Londoner regardless of age.

"Yes, Sarge?"

"The Captain's boot is jammed down there," he pointed to the bottom of the cockpit next to the rudder pedal.

Dusty looked at him confused, "Sarge?"

"We're going to lower you down so you can free it."

"ME?" He squeaked.

"She ain't going to bite you."

"But!?"

"Bend over the cockpit, Dusty!"

He looked at me, his face flushing red; I tried to assure him, "Don't worry about it, Dusty."

The only way he was going to get to my foot to free it was to slide headfirst into the cockpit, and the only way to do that meant he was going to be sliding on me. We were face to face for a moment and I smiled at him and he just stared back wide eyed. Then his body was resting on mine as Mac and one of the medics lowered him into the cockpit. I heard a mumbled, "Sorry, ma'am," when he tried to steady himself and his hand grasped my breast.

"Dusty, do what you have to do, just try to keep off my right leg, it's got some unwanted holes in it."

"Yes, ma'am"

There was a minute or two of wriggling and squirming and some muttered oaths. Then I felt a hand working its way up my body, he froze for a moment when he came into contact with my crotch and then jerked back. I asked him, "Dusty, what do you need?"

His muffled voice came up from near my feet, "I need some shears or something, I need to cut away some of the metal."

A moment later Mac was handing me a heavy pair of tin snips and I worked them down until Dusty could get hold of them. He worked for another minute and then my leg came free and pain shot up my leg and made me gasp. Dusty froze, "It's okay!" I snapped.

I heard his voice come up, "She's free!"

Mac and the medic started hauling him out, jostling my leg, "Take it slow!" I snarled, gritting my teeth against the pain.

They slowed down and eased him out more carefully, as his face came into view I grabbed his arms and pulled him toward me and gave him a quick kiss on the lips and added, "Thanks, Dusty."

He stared at me wide eyed until he disappeared from view. I twisted around and saw him stagger and nearly fall off the plane as they set him down, "Yeah, fourteen," I mumbled.

Mac looked at me sharply; then in a quiet voice he said, "Fifteen last month."

We exchanged looks and both shrugged at the same time, it was his choice. Just like it was, or should be, my choice. The two medics and Mac eased me out of the cockpit and set me down on the stretcher. I held myself up on my elbows and looked to the east. Just on the horizon I saw what looked like some airplanes, "Ma'am, you need to lie down, we have to get you…"

"HOLD IT!" I shouted, the pain was bad but I needed to see, "Mac, hold me up!"

The medic was checking my leg and I felt him pull my flying boot off, "Shit, you've got another wound through your calf; it's starting to bleed again."

"Well slap a bandage on it but stop bothering me." I snapped as I concentrated on the aircraft coming from the east. They were close enough now that I could see they were P-38s, but there were only three of them. "Who's back?"

"Everybody but Red flight and two from the 609th," Mac answered.

I stared at the approaching aircraft, they were traveling slowly, one had its port engine feathered and the other his starboard engine, the third aircraft was weaving slowly back and forth above and behind the two damaged aircraft. I watched as they slowly separated and then the first of the damaged planes settled onto the runway, the crash truck and an ambulance screaming after it. It rolled to a stop at the end of the runway and then turned off and started taxiing slowly back toward us. I'd recognized the plane as it had rolled past us, it was Red Four.

The second damaged plane landed and rolled to a stop at the end of the runway, this time it just sat there. The crash truck and ambulance rolled up to it and I watched as men clambered onto the plane and moments later were loading the pilot onto a stretcher. I was distracted when the other P-38 came back making a low-level high speed pass down the runway and then he was pulling up and banking around.

A tinny voice came out of the control tower loud speaker and I recognized Buffy's wingman Erickson, "These aren't mine, they're for the Buff!"

He came screaming down less than a hundred feet off the runway and started doing snap rolls, they seemed to go on and on. I counted them as he went by, reaching eight before he leveled off and climbed away. She'd shot down eight Germans? How the hell had she done that? Even as good as she was she'd already shot off at least half her ammunition at that train!

"Ma'am!" I looked up at the medic, "We have to get you to the hospital!"

"Sure," I said resignedly. I knew from what Erikson had done that there wasn't any use waiting for Buffy to return. She wasn't coming back. What the hell was I going to do without her? I thought back over the year I had known her, a little over a year. I don't think I'd gone more than twelve hours without seeing and talking to her during that entire time. They jarred me getting off the wing and I let out an involuntary gasp as the pain shot through me.

When we were on the ground the medic said, "Hold on, let me give her some morphine."

I felt a prick in my leg but before it could take affect I felt a presence near me. I turned my head to see Colonel Miller kneeling next to me, "Thompson, are you going to be okay?"

I looked up at him and shrugged, "I don't know, sir. We were awfully close."

He looked confused for a moment and then nodded in understanding, "I won't believe it until I see her body, but how about you?"

I shrugged, "Ask the medic. But sir, even if you do see her body she isn't gone, not really."

He gave me a weak smile, "Yeah, she'll never be really gone."

In the silence the medic spoke up, "She should be fine; we'll start her on some plasma as soon as we get her in the ambulance. The docs will have her patched up in no time."

As they lifted the stretcher back up and carried me toward the ambulance the Colonel stood up and for the first time I noticed the crowd behind him. There were a couple other Colonels and at least one General; we'd never had brass on the field before. The entire group was looking at me and I realized that the shit had just hit the fan. Great fucking timing, I thought, they show up on the day we get ambushed and Buffy is lost. Well, at least they weren't going to be able to ground her.

They also weren't going to be able to suppress her legacy. She had 43 confirmed kills, and if the eight Erickson had indicated were confirmed that would put her up to 51. That was well past any other pilot in England and she'd done it in less than two months. That was almost twice Rickenbacker's total from WWI, and he had been the highest scoring US ace. The morphine was starting to have an effect and my mind was drifting but a thought came to me, with my three kills today that gave me 27, one ahead of Rickenbacker.

I came to a while later in the base clinic; the doctor was shaking my shoulder gently. "Miss?"

I looked at him for a minute, getting my head clear, "Yeah, Doc, what's the bad news?"

He smiled at me, "I don't think it's too bad. You're going to have some interesting scars to explain to your boy friend but I think you'll be fine. You're stable and there's nothing urgent so we're going to send you down to London. They've got a really good leg man down there and he'll do a much neater job than I would."

"Okay, Doc, whatever you say."

"How are you feeling?"

I thought about it for a minute, "Not bad, a little weak and sleepy."

"We'll keep you on plasma, build your blood back up during the trip; but I'd rather not give you any more morphine. It's better if he decides to operate right away."

"Okay, the legs not bothering me now."

I spent the long ride to London, over four hours, drifting in and out of consciousness. The pain was getting pretty bad for the last hour but I kept my mouth shut and lasted through it. I concentrated on remembering the good times with Buffy; God was I going to miss her.

They rolled me into the hospital room and a gruff old nurse pulled the sheet down. Doc hadn't bothered with anything other than cutting off my pants and cleaning and re-bandaging my wounds. I still had on my leather flying jacket and blouse, silk scarf and underwear. She looked at me, "Jesus, what were playing at?"

"Playing at? I wasn't playing at anything."

"Humph!" She snorted, "Well let's get you out of those clothes."

She went to the door and called out "Hightower!" A moment later a young, pretty girl appeared in the doorway.

The older nurse said, "Get her undressed and cleaned up, I'll be back in five and we'll take her down to get x-rays."

The older nurse left the room and Hightower came over and helped me sit up, I winced and she said, "We need to get x-rays and Doctor Sherman needs to look at them and decide if it would be better to do the surgery now or wait. Can you hold on without some pain killers for a while longer? Or should I check with Nurse Grundy to see if you can have something?"

"I can stand it, let's just move slowly. So this Doctor Sherman is something special?"

She nodded, "Yeah, he just got here from the states. He's supposed to be one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the world."

"So he's got lots of experience with combat injuries?"

"Oh, no, he's an orthopedic surgeon, he'll do wonders on your leg; how'd you hurt it?"

I ignored her question, "Great!"

I held out my arm and she pulled the leather jacket off of my arm. As it came free she suddenly stopped, "What the hell is that?"

I looked down and saw the Colt 45 in its shoulder holster hanging under my arm, "My .45, why?"

She looked up at me, "What are you doing with a gun?"

I shrugged and gave a minimal answer, I really wasn't in the mood for long stories; "We all wear them."

She looked at me strangely and then shrugged and helped me the rest of the way out of my jacket. I took the gun out of the holster and hit the magazine release dropping it into my hand. I pulled the slide back sharply with the gun tilted to the side so the round in the chamber ejected onto the bed next to me. I released the slide and then pulled the trigger while holding the hammer and eased it down. I put the gun back into the holster. I picked up the extra round and held it and the magazine out to her, "Just put these in the inside pocket of my jacket."

She was staring wide eyed at them, after a moment she hesitantly took them from me and did as I'd asked her to. I slipped out of the shoulder holster and wrapped the straps around it and the three extra magazines in the pouch that hung under the opposite arm from the gun. I handed the bundle to her, "Just wrap it in the jacket; is there someplace safe we can keep it?"

She nodded as she took the bundle and put it in the arm of the jacket and folded it neatly; then she turned back to me, "What the hell are you?"

I looked at her for a moment and then shrugged, "I am, or was, a fighter pilot. Don't know if that will be true any longer."

She pointed at my leg, "That's not from some accident?"

I shook my head, "Nope, some damn kraut. Unfortunately I think he survived, unless his chute didn't open."

"What does that mean?"

"He shot me, I shot him; I'm the better shot. He bailed out but he looked okay when he went past me so he probably survived."

She looked at me in amazement for several moments; then shook herself. "I'll make sure they're safe."

"Thanks."

She helped me out of the rest of my clothes; she did let me keep my panties on. Half an hour later I was back in the room, the bed was tilted up and I was pretty comfortable. Even without morphine the pain in my leg had subsided to a dull ache. Hightower, Nurse Grundy, and a new guy, older with glasses and a distinguished air even in the surgical scrubs he was wearing, came into the room. He came up to the bed and took my wrist and felt my pulse, after a couple of seconds he let it go, "How are you feeling, Miss?"

"Tolerable, Doctor…?"

"I'm Doctor Sherman, we're going to take a look at your x-rays and see what needs to be done."

He and Grundy stepped over to the light box and he slipped some films into them, he looked at them for a minute and then whistled softly, "What the hell happened to you, Miss?"

"I got shot!"

"I mean how did that happen? Was there an accident or something? Or were you just in the wrong place?"

"I guess you could say the later."

He turned to look at me and I could see the x-ray behind him, I could clearly see the size of the bullet that was buried in my leg and I swore, "Shit!"

"What?"

"Can I see that?" I said pointing at the x-ray.

He looked at me startled by my request and then shrugged to himself and pulled it off the light box and handed it to me. I held it up and looked closely at it, "Is this life size?"

"Yes."

"You better get an ordnance man up here."

"Why?"

"Because Doc and I both assumed that was a machine gun round since my leg was still attached, it's not."

"What is it?"

"It's a 20mm cannon round, and unless I've missed my guess it's an explosive round, AP rounds should look… more solid, I guess."

"How the hell did you get shot by a 20 mm cannon?" Nurse Grundy asked.

"We got jumped by a whole lot of Germans and an FW-190 got a pretty good burst into me before I got him."

Doctor Sherman was looking at me incredulously, "A German was shooting at you?"

"Well, I don't know that he was actually shooting at me, more that he was shooting at my plane. But the general effect is the same."

There was silence in the room for several moments; then the Doctor nodded to himself as if coming to an understanding, "Ah… Your transport plane got jumped by Germans?"

I snorted, "No, we were on a sweep over Germany and we met up with a lot of Krauts that weren't happy with us blowing up their rail yard and the train."

"What?"

"I said we were on a sweep over Germany and met a lot of angry Krauts."

What the hell were you doing on a 'sweep' over Germany?"

I shrugged, "It's what we do."

"What who do?"

"Fighter pilots."

He looked at me startled, "You're a woman!"

"Well it's good to know that my doctor can tell what sex I am!"

He looked at me for a long moment, "I think we'd better call for a psych consult…"

"Didn't the doctor from my group call you and tell you he was sending me down?"

He shook his head; Nurse Grundy spoke up, "A doctor attached to the 89th Fighter Group filled out all the paperwork that came with her, at least that's what the paperwork says."

"I don't need a fu… a psychiatrist; I need someone to patch me up."

The doctor looked at me for several moments; then shook his head, "What the hell is this world coming to?"

I glared at him, "Yeah, in no time they'll even have women doctors."

"Huh? I know several women doctors, excellent doctors I'll have you know!"

"So what's so frigging hard about comprehending a woman fighter pilot?"

"But…" He stared at me and finally shook his head, "… far be it from me."

"So what are we going to do about my leg? And I would prefer not to have it blown off!"

15


	17. Chapter 17: Article 32

There was a sharp rap on my door, I looked up from the paper I was reading and yelled, "Come!"

The door opened and a young Lieutenant with an MP brassard around his arm looked in. I was lying in bed in my PJs and robe; he jerked back and pulled the door nearly closed, then spoke through the crack in the door, "Miss Thompson?"

"Captain Thompson."

"Uh… Yes ma'am. I'm supposed to take you to the hearing."

"What hearing?"

"Ma'am… I don't know… they just called and told me to pick you up and take you to the hearing."

"Where?"

"At VIII Fighter Command at Bushey Hall."

"And you don't know what this is about."

"No ma'am."

"Okay, give me a minute."

It had been two weeks since I'd been wounded and I had been stuck in the Hospital since then. I hadn't seen anyone from the squadron or group since I'd been admitted and had no idea what was going on, nobody would tell me anything. I'd tried calling the group office a couple of days before, fighting for hours with the British phone system until I finally got through only to be told no one was available to talk to me nor would they put me through to the squadron office. The only contact that I had with my old life was a duffle bag that had been delivered a couple days before. It contained a lot of my stuff and tucked on top was a note from Mac hastily scribbled on a scrap of paper; I suspected he had slipped it in without authorization. It bothered me because it sounded like he wasn't expecting me to ever come back:

_XO, Hope this is what you need; the rest is packed away when you want it. Also, three confirmed, congrats. Mac._

Chelsea Hightower, the young nurse I'd met when I'd first arrived, had tried to find out what was going on through the medical establishment but had been told no information was available. She'd become a friend; she would come by and keep me company in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, or help me pass the time during the day when she was off duty.

Chelsea had taken one of my uniforms down to the laundry and gotten it pressed so I had something to wear. The rest of my gear was still packed in my duffle; all I'd been wearing was hospital issue.

I could move around carefully and even walk a little with the help of a cane. I'd made it a habit to walk the corridor outside my room each hour; both to strengthen my leg and to break the boredom of nothing to do, and I was up to three lengths now.

I used the cane to hook the duffle and drag it out from under the bed. I managed to lean over enough to dig out a bra and panties and got out of the PJs and robe and into them. I put on my uniform shirt and struggled into the slacks; I finally got them on and everything tucked in, buttoned up and zipped. I was working on the tie when I decided I was going to have to have some help, I called out, "Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am" he answered through the door.

"You can come in now."

He opened the door and looked in cautiously, I was leaning against the bed getting the tie tied, "Unless I go barefoot I'm going to need some help, either you can help or go get one of the nurses."

While I had managed so far it hadn't been a painless process. I didn't know if I could do my shoes, bending over that far or bending my injured leg that much was going to be hitting the limits of what I could do. I'd started some mild physical therapy earlier that week but I was a long way from getting that much range of motion. Besides, I didn't want to stress the wounds too much and open either of them up again. The wound in my thigh still had stitches and the stitches in my calf had only come out two days before.

I had been very lucky; they had gotten the 20mm round out without it detonating. They were all sure it was a dud and that there had been nothing to worry about until the orderly had dumped it in a garbage can and blown the hell out of it. Fortunately nobody had been hurt beyond some minor scrapes and cuts. I had also been lucky in that neither bullet had hit bone. The wound in my calf had been a through and through, it must have been from a machine gun slug, probably armor piercing, given the size of the wound. The cannon round had done more damage, entering my thigh near my hip and angling down and through my leg until it ended up on the inside of my thigh near my knee. But it must have been nearly spent and fortunately it hadn't tumbled. They had gotten it out and cleaned both wounds while I was under so I'd missed that experience but the next week hadn't been any fun. It had passed slowly in a morphine induced haze and pain when the morphine wore off. My leg had swelled to two or three times its normal size but that had finally subsided. With the help of the cane I could move around without too much discomfort now. I'd been off the morphine for four days now and the last couple of nights I'd been able to sleep through.

The Lieutenant came into the room, "What do you need, ma'am?"

I pointed at the duffle, "There should be dress shoes and socks in there. I can't bend over far enough to get into them so if you could give me a hand we could get this show on the road."

He found the shoes and socks and he was kneeling in front of me slipping the socks onto my feet when Nurse Grundy came into the room, "What are you doing young man?"

The Lieutenant looked up startled, "Uh… helping the Captain to get dressed, ma'am."

"Why?"

"She has to report to VIII Fighter Command."

"Who says?"

"They called and told me to come pick her up."

"Who called?"

"VIII Fighter Command."

Grundy shook her head, "Young man, I'm going to need more than that, don't you two go anywhere until I get back."

She turned and marched out of the room, I looked down at him, "Hurry up, let's get out of here before she gets back."

"But she said…"

"Screw her; I'm bored enough as it is. You've got your orders."

He finished putting my shoes and socks on me, as he got up I asked, "Would you get my jacket out of the bottom of the nightstand?"

He opened the door on the nightstand by my bed; my leather jacket was rolled into a cylinder in the bottom of the nightstand. He grabbed the jacket and as he stood up it unrolled and my shoulder holster and gun fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He picked it up and looked questioningly at it and then realized what it was, he looked up at me with a startled expression, "What the hell?"

I shrugged, "Forgot to turn it in; put it in my duffle."

After a moment he shook his head and shoved the gun and holster into my duffle and stood up and handed me the jacket. I slipped it on and picked up my cane, "If you'd be a gentleman and carry my duffle we'll be able to move faster."

"Yes ma'am."

He zipped the duffle closed and then picked it up and headed out, I followed him out the door using the cane to keep most of the weight off my leg. We had almost made it to the end of the corridor when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I thought we were busted until I saw Chelsea Hightower come around the corner, she looked at me startled, "Where are you going, Captain?"

"VIII Fighter Command evidently needs my able assistance once again, Lieutenant."

"You aren't well enough to be going anywhere."

The MP Lieutenant interceded, "Ma'am, I've got orders to take her."

She looked at us for a moment, "I was coming to keep you company for a while sir, my shift just ended. I think I should come with you and keep an eye on you."

"I don't know…" the MP Lieutenant started.

"Hey, how could it hurt? Besides, I'd rather she helped me in the head than you or any of the types were liable to find around headquarters."

He thought for a moment and then shrugged, "Fine… hope you like riding in the back of a jeep."

The three of us went down the stairs; luckily we only had the one flight because I didn't think my leg would take more than that. Chelsea stayed with me as we waited just outside the front entrance while the Lieutenant went and got his jeep. He got it out of the parking lot and pulled it into the circular drive that came to the foot of the steps. She helped me down the last few steps and into the front seat of the jeep, that turned into a real job but we finally managed it with only minor jabs of pain. Chelsea climbed into the back and we headed out the drive. As we pulled onto the street I looked back and saw Grundy standing at the top of the steps, she didn't look at all happy as she glared after us.

Half an hour later we pulled up outside of Bushey Hall and the Lieutenant escorted us in and left us standing in the front entryway while he went to find out where I was wanted. I was tempted to just go back out and get in the jeep he had left so conveniently parked outside and head back to the 611th but in the end I decided that wasn't going to accomplish much beside get me into trouble. Besides what would I have done with Chelsea?

He came back a couple of minutes later with an MP Sergeant with him, "The Sergeant will take care of you now, ma'am."

He saluted and I returned his salute and he headed back to his jeep. The MP Sergeant said, "This way, ma'am."

Chelsea and I followed the Sergeant down a corridor and around a corner, we went a little farther and then he pointed to a bench sitting in the hallway across from a door with two MPs standing guard, "You can have a seat, I'll let them know you're here."

I sat down and Chelsea sat next to me and put my duffle on the far side of her, "What is this all about?"

I shrugged, "Hell if I know. All the Lieutenant knew was that he was supposed to bring me here."

A minute later the Sergeant came back out, "They'll call you when they're ready, it shouldn't be long."

"What is this all about, Sergeant?"

"It's an Article 32 hearing, ma'am."

"An Article 32? About what?"

"I don't know ma'am, they just told me to bring you here. I have to get back to my office, ma'am."

"Okay, Sergeant."

He walked back down the hallway and I looked at the two guards standing by the door. I didn't think I would get anything out of them so I just ignored them. Chelsea spoke quietly from beside me, "What's an Article 32 hearing?"

"Before they court martial you they have to have a formal presentation of the charges, like a preliminary hearing in the civilian world. The prosecution has to present enough evidence to show that there was a crime and that they have reasonable proof that you did it."

"So do you think they're bringing charges against you?"

I thought for a moment and then shook my head, "I doubt it; I think I would have met with a lawyer or something before now if that was the case."

Before we could speculate any more the door opened and another MP Officer, this one a Captain, looked across the hallway at us, "Captain Thompson, come with me."

I got up and Hightower followed after me, the Captain looked at her, "Ma'am, I don't…"

"The Captain has been severely injured; her wounds are not anywhere near healed."

He looked at her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders, "If you can find a seat, Miss."

I followed him into the room and Chelsea trailed after us. It was a large room, probably a ball room or grand salon originally, but now it was set up as a make shift courtroom. The back two thirds of the room were filled with rows of chairs separated by a central aisle, we were right at the start of the aisle. The chairs were filled with people; most in uniform but occasionally there was a splash of color from some civilian clothing. It seemed almost all of the people were turned in their seats looking at us.

In front of the rows of chairs were two tables, two officers were sitting at each of the tables with their backs to us. The two on the left had their heads together, talking quietly. With a shock I recognized Colonel Miller; I didn't know the thin, dark haired Major with horn rimmed glasses he was talking to. At the other table a fat Colonel with an amazingly porcine like face had turned in his seat and was looking at us, beside him another officer sat with his back to us and his nose in a book.

At the far end of the room was a small platform, maybe originally for a band. On it was a table with a one-star general sitting behind it flanked by a pair of flags, the stars and stripes and the US Army flag, the judge for the hearing I presumed. On one side of his table was a single chair facing out to the audience, on the other side was a smaller desk at right angles to his table with a Sergeant seated behind it.

"Go on, Captain." The MP Captain said as he motioned down the aisle; then he stepped back and took a position by the door we had just come in. Almost all the seats were full but I saw a couple of empty ones at the far end of the back row and pointed them out to Chelsea, she headed for them with my duffle while I walked down the aisle.

It had been a strenuous hour, more than I was used to, and I was moving slowly and my leg was starting to ache. Occasionally more severe pains shot up it when I jarred it trying to walk. The cane tip slipped a little as I put my weight on it and I had to put more pressure on the leg than I should, I couldn't completely suppress the hiss the shooting pain forced out of me. The judge called out, "Do you need assistance, Miss."

I looked up at him, "No, sir."

But before I could take another step Chelsea was at my elbow steadying me. She walked with me to the front of the courtroom. As we approached the witness chair the Sergeant got up from behind his desk with a Bible in his hand. We came to a stop in front of the Judge's table and he met us, holding the Bible out to me, "Raise your right hand…"

It was awkward, Chelsea had to step up to my side and help support me and hold my cane so I could raise my right hand while I put the other hand on the Bible, but we got positioned and he continued, "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"I do."

"For the record, state your name, rank, and serial number."

"Barbara S. Thompson, Captain, R410141957"

He stepped back and Chelsea helped me up to the chair and I got seated. The one-star waited until I was settled and she had returned to her seat at the back of the court room; then said, "Colonel Dodd, you may proceed."

The fat Colonel looked up from his seat and scowled at me for a few moments, in the pause I turned to the judge, "Sir, could someone explain to me what's going on?"

"This is the Article 32 hearing, Miss."

I bridled at the 'Miss' but held my tongue, "I know that much, sir, the MPs told me; but an Article 32 for what?"

"Nobody told you what you were being called as a witness for?"

"No sir."

He looked at the fat Colonel for a moment, his face expressionless but I don't think he liked what he was hearing, "Colonel Miller, the CO of the 89th Fighter Group, is being charged with disobeying Army regulations and negligent homicide."

"Negligent homicide?" I squeaked.

"Yes, Miss, in the death of Captain Buffy Summers." Oh, God! I thought. Had they confirmed Buffy was dead? I hadn't heard anything, but then I'd been completely isolated in the hospital. "Miss?! Are you all right?"

I swallowed and reined in my emotions, then managed to get out, "Yes, sir."

He looked at me for a moment, "Should we take a break or can you continue?"

"No sir… I mean I'm fine, sir, we can continue." I wasn't anywhere near fine but I could concentrate on what was going on here rather than let my emotions run wild. I turned back to the front and saw the fat Colonel was still glaring at me. I glanced over to the other table and saw Colonel Miller sitting rigidly beside his lawyer, he looked at me and gave a miniscule jerk of his head and I could see just the slightest softening of his features.

Dodd started to speak and I turned my attention back to him, "Miss Thompson, would you please explain why you and Miss Summers were illegally flying with components of the 89th Fighter Group on 3 September 1942?"

His question took me by surprise and I blurted out the first response that came to my mind, "No, sir."

He jerked in his seat and then ponderously got to his feet, "NO!? Miss you must answer my questions!"

All the 'Miss' stuff was getting to me, I turned to the judge, "Sir, as far as I know I'm still a Captain in the US Army and not a debutante, I'd like to be addressed as such."

"Yes, Miss… Captain," I thought I detected a slight grin and he turned to the courtroom at large, "Colonel, the witness is Captain Thompson."

He glared at me and then snarled, "Okay, Captain! Explain why you were illegally flying with components of the 89th."

"No sir."

"No!? Your Honor! Instruct the witness to answer my question!"

Before the judge could say anything I continued, "No, sir – I can't because I was not illegally flying with components of the 89th."

"You deny flying with them?!"

"No sir."

"You were flying with the 89th over occupied France?"

"And Belgium, and the Netherlands, and Germany, although Germany's not occupied."

"So you admit you were illegally flying with them!"

"No sir."

"Are you claiming ignorance of the law?"

"No sir."

He turned to his aide, "Read the applicable sections."

The aide looked for a moment and then started reading, "Sub-paragraph e: Female pilots will be assigned flight duties commensurate with their skill and training within the continental United States. Sub-paragraph f: Female pilots will not be assigned duties with combat units within the continental United States."

The Colonel turned back to me with a smirk on his face, "That seems pretty clear to me, Captain."

"Sir, that section was modified on 15 June, 1942."

"I'm aware of that; the restriction of flight duties within the continental United States was removed."

"No sir, the restriction was only removed from Sub-paragraph e. The restriction on the assignment of female pilots to combat units still applies in the continental United States. There is no restriction on assignment of female pilots to combat units outside of the continental United States."

"WHAT?" The fat Colonel squealed.

His aide started leafing through the papers and after a moment he found a sheet of paper and read over it. He looked back at the original statue and then back to the piece of paper. While he was doing that I spoke up, "The amendment to the law states 'the last five words of sub-paragraph e are stricken, nothing about sub-paragraph f is mentioned. Therefore the law, amended as congress passed and President Roosevelt signed, now reads: Sub-paragraph e: Female pilots will be assigned flight duties commensurate with their skill and training. Sub-paragraph f: Female pilots will not be assigned duties with combat units within the continental United States."

He turned back to his aide, after a moment he looked up, "She's right, sir."

He turned back to me, "But that's not what they intended!"

I shrugged, that was the same thing I'd said when Buffy had pointed out the effect that the change they had made to the law to permit us to fly outside the continental United States. I had told her it wouldn't make any difference in the long run but she had smiled at me and said it didn't matter what they intended, it matters what they wrote. I sat back in my chair, "But it's what the law says. There was nothing illegal about Colonel Miller assigning us to flight duties with the 611th. Central command assigned us TDY to 89th Fighter Group, how Colonel Miller assigns our duties within the Group is up to him."

"I know how he chose to utilize you and Miss Summers." Dodd said

"Objection! That remark is slanderous and has no foundation!" Colonel Miller's lawyer shouted over the rising murmur from the audience.

The judge rapped his gavel several times and quiet returned, "There will be no out bursts or I will clear this court room! Objection is sustained, the remark will be stricken. Colonel Dodd, watch your mouth!"

"Yes sir, sorry sir." Dodd replied but he didn't act too contrite. He turned back to his aide and they had a whispered conversation for a minute then he turned back to me a gleam in his eyes and a satisfied smirk on his porcine features.

"But the law states 'duties commensurate with their skill and training', you can't possibly think you have the skill or training to fly in combat."

"Yes sir, I do."

"But you're a woman!"

"I am? Gee I never…" I caught the look Colonel Miller was giving me, "Sorry, sir. Yes, I am a woman, and that matters how?"

"How can you have the skills? You were neither trained in aerial gunnery nor in aerial combat tactics."

"No, sir…"

"So you were not qualified to…"

I over rode what he was trying to say, "No sir, I never went through the aerial combat course nor gunnery school. However, I did pass gunnery qualification with 96.5% in the P-38, 95.1% in the P-40, 93.7% in the P-39 and 89.9% in the Spitfire Mk II, she's a lovely plane but a lousy gun platform. You might note that the average passing score for male pilots is 79.9% and the minimum passing score is 70%."

"You what?" He said, stunned.

"As for the aerial combat course, I never went through it. I did however teach and certify male pilots in the 'Squadron Combat Training Group' at March Field for six months. This was an advanced course for pilots who had already completed the aerial combat training course. Since I was testing and certifying that the male pilots were ready for combat Major Jenkins, the Training Group CO, tested and certified that I had completed and passed the combat training curriculum. When we completed the design and criteria of the course we would be providing for the squadron level training I completed and passed that course. As a point of fact I have more training and qualifications and with higher scores than any of the replacement pilots reporting for duty with the 89th."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because I worked with Buff… with Captain Summers to determine what the new pilots needed before we'd let them fly in combat."

"Before you'd let them fly? A little arrogant aren't you Captain?"

"No sir, Colonel Miller assigned Captain Summers the additional responsibility of insuring all the pilots in the group met minimum standards, standards that we set, before she'd authorize them for combat missions. I'd help her when I had the chance. So yes, I knew what the new pilots' capabilities were, and all the original pilots. The first thing Captain Summers and I were assigned was getting the squadrons' up to speed before the group went into combat."

The fat Colonel stood stunned by his desk, then sat down heavily in his seat, I don't think things were going as he had planned. After a moment he had a whispered conversation with his aide and then turned back to the Judge, "Your Honor, no further questions for this… witness."

I looked over at Colonel Miller's table, his lawyer stood up, "We reserve the right to recall this witness for the defense."

"Very well, Major. Captain Thompson, you will remain available."

I got up and started down the aisle, I saw Chelsea stand at the end of the back row and move my duffle out of the empty seat beside her and onto the floor. I made my way over to her and she helped me settle in the seat. There was an older couple on the other side of her in civilian clothes, a frumpy looking woman and a gruff faced man. They were probably some British nobles, maybe the ones that owned this estate, spending their day watching the show being put on by the Americans.

My attention went back to the front of the room when I heard the fat Colonel's aide call out, "We call Lieutenant Robert Erickson."

Erickson had only joined the squadron a week or so before the fight, one of the reasons he was flying as Buffy's wingman. He was actually a fairly senior 1st Lieutenant; he'd spent a year after he completed flight school training new pilots in the P-38 on the east coast. He hadn't been a happy camper with Buffy or me the first couple of days with the squadron. Buffy had straightened him out and I thought he was going to be a hell of a pilot pretty quick.

The door opened and Erickson came down the aisle, he was sworn in and took the witness chair. Dodd stood up, "Lieutenant how did having to fly with marginally competent female…"

Colonel Miller's lawyer sprang to his feet, "Objection! The Colonel's…"

The judge waved his hand at him, "Sustained! Colonel you know how to phrase a question…"

The fat Colonel reddened, "Yes, sir. Lieutenant, how did having to fly with female pilots affect your performance?"

"It improved it greatly."

Dodd's head snapped up, "WHAT?!"

"It improved…"

"I heard you!" He turned to his aide who handed him a sheet of paper, he walked over and handed it to Erickson, "Lieutenant, didn't you write this letter to your wing commander?"

Erickson took the letter and looked at it, expressions flowed over his face, I thought I saw embarrassment and shame along with a lot of anguish, then his features froze, "Yes, sir."

"Read the first paragraph."

"It has come to my attention that female pilots are attached to the 89th Fighter Group to which I have just been assigned. I feel they jeopardize the mission of the group in that they will distract the other personnel of the group from performing their duties in a proper and correct manner."

He stopped reading and looked out at Colonel Miller, "I'm sorry, Colonel. This was all before Buffy screwed my head on straight."

The fat Colonel turned red, "Lieutenant, you will only answer the questions directed at you."

Erickson looked at him but didn't say anything, "So the female pilots were a distraction and prevented the group from performing its duties properly."

"No, sir."

"NO?!"

"No, sir. Once Buff… Captain Summers taught me how things really were I realized how wrong I was."

The Colonel stared at him incredulously, "She was that good a lay…"

Colonel Miller was on his feet, "You fat jackass, I'll…"

The uproar from the spectators and the pounding of the Judge's gavel drowned out whatever else the Colonel was going to say. After a minute quiet was restored and the Judge looked at Dodd, "Colonel, one more time and I'll hold you in contempt!"

"Yes sir."

He walked back to his table, "I have no further questions. We have already shown that Colonel Miller permitted Captain Buffy Summers to fly with his group and that she was killed in action over Europe. Permitting a female pilot to fly in a combat area clearly contravenes the Army's rules and regulations. Permitting a marginally qualified female pilot to fly in a combat area naturally resulted in her death and is clearly negligent homicide. I request Colonel Miller be bound over for a General Court-martial."

He sat down and the Judge turned to Colonel Miller's table, "Major Guggenheim, do you wish to present a defense?"

"Yes, sir, we'll continue with the current witness, if it pleases the court."

"It's your show, Major."

"Lieutenant Erickson, I understand you were Captain Summers' wingman on the sortie when she went missing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you please describe the events of that day?"

Erickson took them through the briefing and the plan for the day. Dodd stood up, "Lieutenant, you keep saying Captain Summers would be leading the two squadrons, but wasn't Major Dodge, the CO of the 609th the senior officer present? And for that matter what about the CO of the 611th?"

"Captain Summers is… was the CO of the 611th."

"A woman was the Commanding Officer of a fighter squadron!?" Dodd screeched.

The audience was suddenly all talking among themselves, a noise that grew into a clamoring of shocked exclamations and shouted questions. The judge banged his gavel and shouted "QUIET!"

Finally, after several minutes, the noise quieted down. Erickson waited patiently until it was quiet and then calmly said, "Yes sir."

Before Dodd could start up again Major Guggenheim spoke up, "Just to get everyone on the same page, Captain Summers was CO of the 611th?

"Yes sir."

"Who was the executive officer?"

"Captain Thompson."

The up swell of noise from the gallery was quickly silenced by the Judge's gavel and his shout for order. The Major went on, "Captain Barbara Thompson who was just on the stand?"

"Yes sir, Captain Barbara Thompson, although I have no knowledge of whether or not she was just on the stand. However she is sitting in the back of the courtroom."

"How long had, have, they been in command of the 611th?

"Since before it went active, back in July sometime."

"Do you know why they were given command of the 611th?"

"Because they were the best combat pilots in the group."

There was another upsurge of noise from the gallery, the judge banged his gavel until silence returned, "This is my last warning, any more outbreaks and I'll clear this courtroom!"

The judge scowled as he looked over the courtroom, finally he turned back to Major Guggenheim, "You may continue, without interruption!"

"Yes sir. To get back to the earlier question, why wasn't Major Dodge in command of this mission? Clearly he outranked Captain Summers."

"No sir, not in the 89th. Whoever is the senior combat pilot is in command; otherwise you end up with inexperienced people leading experienced people. Then either something bad happens or you might luck out; but you aren't as effective as you could be."

"And how does the 89th determine this 'combat pilot' seniority?"

"It's a combination of how many hours of combat you have and the effectiveness of your combat technique. There is no set formula, people just know, they know who the good combat leaders are. And if there was any doubt Buff… Captain Summers would settle it."

"Would you explain the concept of a 'combat pilot' as used by the 89th Group?"

"The pilots are rated by their combat experience and proven ability to lead in combat, the rating is outside the normal rank structure. Whoever is the senior combat pilot on a given sortie is in command, although Buffy would often give command over to someone else to get them experience. She'd back stop them and take over if things got dicey but that didn't happen too often, she didn't put someone up until they were ready."

"So, even though Major Dodge was senior to her in rank she was the senior combat pilot?"

"Major Dodge was promoted the week before; everybody knew that Captain Summers was still the senior of the two even if the Colonel couldn't get her a promotion."

"And Captain Summers was a senior 'combat pilot', more senior than Major Dodge?"

"Captain Summers was THE senior combat pilot."

"How on earth could that little girl be a combat pilot, much less an effective combat leader?" Dodd yelled out.

"Captain Summers wa… is the best fighter pilot in the world, bar none."

"That seems a little farfetched considering she got herself shot down and killed." Dodd said in sneering voice.

"She wasn't shot down!"

Before the argument got out of hand Major Guggenheim spoke up, "If I may continue maybe we can clear this up in a more orderly fashion?"

The Colonel sat down with a "Humph."

The Major turned back to Erickson, "Lieutenant, before this digression you were describing the combat sortie when Captain Summers went MIA, please continue."

Erickson described the attack on the Bremen marshalling yards and the attack on the train. Then he got to the fight itself. "When Captain Summers realized it was a trap she ordered the other squadron and the other three flights of our squadron to punch their way through and get out of there. We reversed course and headed for the group that was diving on our tails. She set us up on the lead flight of 190s…"

"What do you mean she set you up?" asked Dodd.

Erickson looked at the crowd for a moment and then turned and said something to the Judge. After a moment he motioned for both lawyers to come up to his table, they had a short discussion and then returned to their seats. The Judge banged his gavel and called out, "All civilians and non-essential personnel leave the room."

I started to struggle to my feet, my leg was stiffening up, but I wanted to make room for the old couple sitting next to us to get out and I certainly didn't want to risk having one of them stumble into my leg. I heard a soft American voice say, "Captain, you don't have to go, I'm sure he's not going to say anything you don't already know. And I think your friend can stay also."

I turned to look at the old lady I had dismissed so casually before, then sat back down heavily as I realized who it was, "Mrs. Roosevelt, I didn't recognize…"

She shushed me with a wave of her hand and turned to her companion. I looked closer and realized I was looking at Hap Arnold, commanding General of the Army Air Forces. Jesus, what the hell were they doing here?

My gaze shifted to Chelsea who was looking at our neighbors and then turned to me, her eyes wide, silently she mouthed 'Mrs. Roosevelt?'

I nodded and whispered in her ear, "And General Arnold."

Her head snapped around just as Mrs. Roosevelt turned back toward us, "Captain Thompson, we'd like you to join us for dinner this evening, if possible."

If possible? I couldn't imagine what would make it not possible, "Yes, ma'am… it would be a pleasure."

Mrs. Roosevelt shifted her gaze to Chelsea, "And you too, Miss…"

Chelsea managed to squeak out, "Hightower… ma'am… nurse… Lieutenant Chelsea Hightower."

Mrs. Roosevelt reached over and patted her hand, "Don't worry, Miss Hightower, I don't bite. And while the General has been known to on occasion I'll keep him on a short leash."

There was a "Humph" from the General and then the judge was banging his gavel, "Order in the court!"

There was some final rustling as people settled in their seats and the last of the chatter died away. The Judge surveyed the courtroom and then turned to Erickson, "You may continue, Lieutenant, what did you mean 'Captain Summers set you up'?"

"She positioned us relative to her aircraft and brought us into the lead flight of German 190s such that all of us would have a German plane in our sights at the proper range so we could all open fire at the same time and we would all be on target."

"You mean she tried to position you so you could each engage in individual combat? I thought doctrine was that wingmen tried to stay with their element leaders."

"No, I mean she would position us and make the attack curve such that we could all attack while we stayed in support of each other."

There was a rising murmur from the gallery as the import of what Erickson was trying to describe came across, the Judge's gavel banged down, "Order! People this is your last warning. Keep quiet or I'm emptying this court room."

"I'm still not sure I follow you Lieutenant, maybe you could explain what happened?"

"Well, we were heading right toward the 190s, jinking a little to keep them unsettled when the Skipper ordered us to spread and had her wingman climb a little higher. Then she started us in a climbing turn to the right and the Germans started to follow us around, they spread out a little and the inner planes naturally got closer to us quicker. Then just as they opened up, a little early but then they almost always do open up early, we snap rolled back and went from a climb to diving on them, not much but just enough to bring them into our sights and then we all opened up."

"You all started firing at the same time? But how could…"

"Because that's what Captain Summers did. We each had a target right in front of us. We didn't have much time, maybe two to three seconds and then we were past them."

"And did any of you get any hits?"

Erickson snorted, "If you didn't get hits after a setup like that then you weren't following instructions!"

"So what happened?"

"Captain Summers' target exploded, that's what she usually did. Both Red 3 and 4 flamed their targets, but I blew it. I was too slow on my cannon trigger so I could only claim a probable on mine. If I'd opened up with my cannon at the same time as with the MGs I would have gotten him."

"So you're saying that Captain Summers lead the flight of four aircraft and positioned all of them such that you shot down three enemy aircraft and heavily damaged the fourth?"

"Yes sir."

"That's impossible!" yelled Dodd as he bounced out of his chair.

Erickson looked at him with disdain, "Check the gun camera footage, we've got the three from Red flight that came back that confirm it and all three of us saw the 190 that the Skipper was shooting blow up!"

The Judge rapped his gavel, "Sit down, Colonel Dodd!"

"Sorry about the interruption," the Major said as he pointedly looked over at Dodd; then he turned back to Erickson, "so what happened next?"

"We continued our dive and the Skipper snap rolled all of us as we passed the second flight of Germans. They were firing but nobody reported any hits. We were passed them so fast that they didn't have time to get onto us at that point. She brought us in and we climbed at the third flight, all the Germans were in trail. I don't know what they were thinking, or maybe they had lost us. Anyway, as we were closing from below they started to climb and the Skipper closed us in and we looped under them and had perfect shots at their bellies. Red 3 and 4 both exploded their targets and I flamed mine, the Captain shot the wing off her target. Then we continued the loop and dove away."

"I noticed some tracers going over me, it must have been from the fourth flight but it was long range and I wasn't hit. Red 4 told me later he picked up some dings in his tail from the fire at that time but no significant damage. We dove for a couple of seconds to recover some speed and then pulled up so we were head on to the second squadron of 190s. There wasn't any time to line up so the Skipper had us hold our fire; we were all getting pretty low on ammunition. They tried to shoot us but the angles were wrong and nobody got hit."

"This squadron of Germans was in a diamond formation unlike the first one. As we passed under the lead flight the Skipper was positioning us and then put us in a vertical bank, I nearly blacked out at the Gs we were pulling and she was banking harder than any of us but I could still hear her when she screamed for us to fire. I pressed the triggers as we eased out and my vision came back and my fire was going into a 190 right in front of me, he blew up as I shoved my stick forward and dove under him. I looked around and the Skipper slid into position in front of me and to my right, the other two planes of our flight were off her other wing and she immediately put us back in a bank back in the opposite direction."

"As we came around I could see the wreckage from the plane I had shot down tumbling down along with three other smoke trails. She called out, 'Heads up people! They're all coming for us now!' I took a quick look around and saw five or six different groups of Germans, two or four planes in each group, and they were all headed right at us."

"Captain Summers lead us in a dive away from the worst concentration; we were headed for a pair of fighters climbing up at us. The Skipper and Red-3 opened up on them, I saw her hits all over his engine compartment; then there was an explosion and his prop started wind milling. He rolled onto his back and I saw the pilot drop out of the plane. The 190 Red-3 was shooting at dove away trailing flames and then the wing peeled off."

"Then I saw Red-4 start to take some hits and a moment later Red-3, she had them break under her as she turned into them. I tried to stay with her but her bank was too hard, I had to ease off and I saw her start to fire, she got some hits on the lead plane and then her fire stopped. It was ragged, first one gun and then another stopped firing so I knew she had run out of ammunition."

"She continued around and I followed her, I spotted the other flight diving away but both had an engine out so it didn't take us long to catch up to them. We had just gotten close, a little above and behind them, when she told me to cover them and she started to bank around. I started to follow her and she ordered me to stay with them. I reversed course and looked back and saw her climbing toward six 190s diving down on us."

"I watched as she headed right toward them, the leader opened fire and she was jinking like crazy and I only saw an occasional hit on her. Then just as they were about to pass each other she did a snap roll and put her wing tip right into his prop, he lost at least two blades because I could see them spinning away from his aircraft."

Dodd spoke up; you could hear the sneer in his voice, "So she accidently collided with the other plane?"

Erickson looked at him, shocked and then angry, "It wasn't an accident; she did it on purpose, just like she did a moment later as she was passing the next element. The impact tore up her wing tip and it also reversed her roll, but she controlled the course of her plane and she put the other wingtip into the prop of the leader of the second element. Somehow she kept control of her plane even with most of the outer wings torn to shreds. The last four Germans had had enough, they were diving away from her and she dove after them. She got the trailing two by chopping off their tails with her props. The last I saw of her she was still after the last two when they all disappeared in some clouds."

Erickson seemed exhausted by reliving the experience and collapsed back into the chair. The Major gave him a little bit of time to recover and then asked, "So let me make sure I've got the numbers correct, Captain Summers shot down four German fighters and damaged a fifth while leading your flight which destroyed an additional ten Germans. And then she protected two badly damaged aircraft and destroyed four more German fighters using her aircraft as a weapon?"

"Yes sir."

Major Guggenheim turned to the Judge, "I have no further questions for this witness."

The Judge nodded and turned to the fat Colonel, "Cross?"

Dodd sat in his seat for several moments and then heaved himself to his feet, "Lieutenant Erickson, how many combat missions have you flown?"

"Four."

"How many of those were after the mission during which Captain Summers performed these… remarkable feats?" You could hear the disbelief in his voice.

"None, the 611th has been grounded since then."

"So that was your fourth combat mission?"

"Yes sir."

"Not much experience to be able to tell what was really going on."

Erickson looked like he was about to explode, "More than enough to know what I saw, and a damn site more than you!"

The Judge rapped his gavel, "Lieutenant! Watch your demeanor!"

Erickson turned to the Judge, he was about to say something but then changed his mind, looking at the expression on the Judge's face I could understand why, he settled for a respectful, "Yes, your honor."

After a moment Dodd sat down, "No further questions."

The Judge turned to Erickson, "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

I noticed Colonel Miller lean over and say something to Major Guggenheim, after a moment he popped up, "Redirect!"

The Judge looked startled, then waved at Erickson, "Keep your seat, go ahead Major."

"Lieutenant, how many confirmed air to air kills do you have?"

"Six."

"That makes you an 'ace' doesn't it Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir."

"So, four combat missions and you're an ace - that sounds to me like a fair amount of experience."

"Yes sir."

"No further questions."

The Judge nodded to Erickson who got up and took one of the empty seats in the first row behind the Colonel Millers' table. The Major and Colonel Miller seemed to be having a heated discussion; the Judge called out, "Major, are you going to be calling any more witnesses?"

Guggenheim looked up, "If I may have a moment to confer with my client, your honor?"

The Judge looked at his watch, "It's nearly lunch, we'll recess for an hour; I presume that will give you sufficient time?"

"Yes, your honor."

The Judge started to stand and the Sergeant at the desk popped up, "Attention on deck!"

I struggled to my feet, Chelsea giving me a hand; as I came to attention Mrs. Roosevelt said quietly, "Go out that door to the side, Captain."

I looked at the wall beside me and noticed for the first time that there was a door almost concealed in the woodwork. I looked at it dumbly for a moment and heard her soft voice again, "Go on Captain, they're waiting for us to get clear."

15


	18. Chapter 18: Afternoon

I limped over and opened the door and stepped out into a narrow hallway, probably intended for servants to move unobtrusively in and out of the ball room. Chelsea was behind me with my duffle and Mrs. Roosevelt and General Arnold came after her, the General nodded at me and I came to attention. Chelsea followed my example as Arnold spoke, "At ease, ladies. There won't be any problem with you joining us for dinner tonight, will there?"

"No sir." I said.

Chelsea spoke up, her voice wavering a little, "Uh… I'm supposed to be on duty starting at 10PM, sir."

"Where?"

"334th Field Hospital, sir."

"I'll have them notified that you're TDY for the time being, it looks like the Captain could use your aide for awhile."

"Yes sir."

He nodded his head and then turned and accompanied Mrs. Roosevelt down the hallway, the two of them talking quietly. I heard a little of Mrs. Roosevelt's comment as they were moving away, "You need fighter pilots…"

I looked after them in amazement; then turned to Chelsea, "I'd like to talk to Colonel Miller if I can."

She nodded toward the other end of the hallway and I turned and saw Colonel Dodd and his aide coming through another door further down, they turned toward us and I came back to attention. He and his aide walked past, studiously ignoring us. Down the hall I saw Colonel Miller and his lawyer come out of the same door. I started walking toward him as he and his lawyer seemed to be continuing their discussion. As we got closer the Major looked up at us and stopped talking, then said, "Captain Thompson."

"Sir, Colonel Miller, if I could have a word?"

The Colonel nodded to me, "Why don't you and your friend join us for lunch?"

"Sir? Yes sir."

"Come on, Major."

We followed along behind as they went down several hallways and then came through a door into what turned out to be an Officer's mess. We waited for a moment by the door while Major Guggenheim went over to where a Sergeant was standing by the main door, directing officers to tables as they came in. He had a whispered conversation with the Sergeant and after a few moments he came back with a Corporal who lead us across the room and into another hallway, a short way down the hall we turned into a small room with a single table large enough to seat eight comfortably.

The Colonel nodded, "This will be fine, Corporal. What's for lunch today?"

The corporal rattled off several selections, I opted for the fish and chips, the Brits usually did them better than most things. After everybody had ordered we got settled around the table, the Colonel at the head and the Major on one side and Chelsea and I on the other, I was furthest away so I could stretch out my injured leg. The corporal poured coffee for everyone from a pot on the sideboard and then left to get the wine the Colonel had ordered.

The Colonel turned to Major Guggenheim, "I want you to call the rest of the witnesses."

"I don't think we should, if they go ahead with the court martial I would like to have something in reserve and I don't think they will have any impact on that decision."

The Colonel shook his head, "They aren't going to court martial me; Captain Thompson and Erickson have already insured that. What I don't want to happen is to have what Buffy and the Captain here have done to get buried. So after lunch I want the reporters back in and the rest of our witnesses called."

The Major didn't seem happy but he nodded in agreement. I spoke up, "Sir, what's happening with the 611th and the group?"

"They've been grounded since you've been gone, while they 'investigate' what had been going on."

I was confused, "What did they think was going on?"

He looked a little embarrassed, "Some… idiot… decided I had my own private little harem and was 'rewarding' my girls by letting them fly with us."

I could feel myself blush as my blood flowed to my face, without thinking I mumbled, "Oh… God… whoever started that better hope Buffy is dead; if she ever finds out she'll…"

The Major looked at me for a moment and then turned back to the Colonel, "You're sure that Dodd's not going to find any… problems no matter who he talks to in the 611th? He may be lazy and incompetent, as his handling of the witnesses has shown, but he's going to start digging a lot harder now that Erickson flaked on him. And as bad as he is there are good investigators working in CID."

The Colonel shook his head, "He won't find any problems because there weren't any. If he pushes too hard trying to dig up dirt he's liable to get himself hurt. You have to understand, Captain Summers… well, her people are as loyal to her as any I've ever seen. If her men find out he's trying to smear her they are liable to take matters into their own hands, especially if Timmons is involved."

I couldn't help but laugh although I tried to cover it up. He was right, if Timmons heard somebody was trying to smear his Captain I wouldn't want to be in their shoes. We were interrupted by the entrance of the Corporal rolling a cart with our lunches and the wine on it. After he got the food distributed and the wine poured he left the room. The Colonel picked up his wine glass and held it up in front of himself, waiting for the rest of us to get our glasses. When we all had them raised he said, "To missing comrades."

We all drank the toast and then put our glasses down. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to hold back the tears as I thought of Buffy. Then I heard the Major, "Who is this Timmons?"

"He's a corporal, engine mechanic assigned to the 611th, he's an outstanding mechanic but a real troublemaker, or he was until Buffy took over the squadron."

"What happened?"

"I don't really know," the colonel turned to me, "maybe the Captain could enlighten us?"

"No sir." I managed to get out.

"No? You don't know what she did to turn him around?"

"No sir, I know."

"Well tell us."

"No sir."

The Major spoke up, "You're sure there is no dirt to dig up on Captain Summers? That she didn't at times use her… feminine charms for…"

The Colonel looked stunned, "I can't believe she'd do something like that…"

"I've heard stories about the painting on the nose of her aircraft; I'm not sure about how pure she really was."

"NO SIR!" I screeched, "You can't think she'd do something like that… that she'd use sex to get anything! She wasn't like that!"

"I know… but how did she get Timmons straightened out?"

I looked around the table at the two men and Chelsea. Buffy was gone, would it really hurt to tell? And even if I did would they believe me? I looked at each person for a moment; then decided, "You have to swear that this never goes outside this room."

After a moment I got nods of agreement, where to start? Well the Major had already brought up her nose art, "Major, do you know what was on her aircraft?"

He seemed embarrassed, "I just heard it was a nude… that had a resemblance to Captain Summers."

I shook my head, "It was a nude of Captain Summers, don't ever doubt it. In the painting she's an archer with her bow drawn, she's nude from the waist up but her hair is covering her nipples although the rest of her breasts are exposed. She has some kind of Turkish harem transparent pantaloons on, but everything would be visible except that the bow covered her privates."

Chelsea was looking at me wide eyed and the Major whistled, "It's a good thing that got destroyed… I don't know what Dodd would have done if he'd gotten his hands on it."

"Probably jack off… if he could find it in all that fat," Chelsea snickered, then turned red as she saw everyone staring at her, "Oh… sorry sir."

I shook my head, what the hell was the world coming to? Then I thought about the fact that I'd gotten Markoff, the guy that had painted the original, to paint it again on canvas for me. I'd shown it to Buffy and she'd agreed it was even better; her breasts were closer to reality. With Buffy's permission I'd shipped it back to Ken at the ranch. I'd gotten a letter a couple weeks ago; he had received the painting and had taken a look. It was now locked up out in the hanger where his kids couldn't see it. I came back to the present with all of them looking at me expectantly.

"She caught Timmons… trying to modify the painting. He was trying to use some black paint to… well to add some hair…" I could feel myself start to blush but forced myself to go on, "Colonel you know how she had her ground crew keep that painting waxed so it wouldn't get damaged. He hadn't really done anything; the paint wouldn't stick to the wax. But she was pissed! She told me later that at least he could have tried to use the right color, that she wasn't a bottle blond."

The Colonel looked at me for a few moments, "I find it difficult to believe that just her catching Timmons would turn him around."

I shook my head, "It's what she did to him."

"What did she do?"

I looked at the Major and Chelsea, "You have to understand, Timmons is about six three or four and as mean as a snake. His problem is he can't handle the booze and when he drinks he likes to hit people."

The Colonel nodded, "Yeah, I was expecting to have to ship him back to the states for some serious prison time. But he's a hell of a mechanic."

I nodded in agreement, "Buffy thought so to, that's why she had him working on her plane. And she knew you were about at your wits end about what to do with him. So she decided to take matters into her own hands. She took him behind the hanger and beat the shit out of him."

"She what?!"

"Do you remember just after we went active, Timmons was in the hospital for a couple of days?"

"Yeah, he claimed some British Marines jumped him, but we could never find any witnesses. For that matter we could never find anybody who ever saw any British Marines around."

"It wasn't Marines, it was Buffy."

"Captain, you can't be serious. I know Buffy is tough, but Timmons is a foot taller and has to outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds."

I nodded, "She was raised in China; she can fight like you wouldn't believe. And you know how strong she is, she can pull a plane around tighter than anyone in the Group."

"I still can't believe she could take Timmons in a fight!"

"Believe it, sir. Buffy Summers is one tough cookie. Anyway, after she'd taken him he respected her, beyond all reason. When she told him she wanted him to keep his nose clean he did. He would do anything for her, sir."

Colonel Miller nodded in understanding; then I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears back as I realized that we were all talking about Buffy as if she was still around. I told my heart to stop grasping at straws; that I couldn't wish for what wasn't happening.

The lunch recess was over and we were back in the courtroom. We had come in early with the Colonel and Major Guggenheim and had gotten seats up in the first row behind their table. They had opened the court room back up; I guess they weren't concerned about classified information this afternoon, so the room was packed.

The Judge banged his gavel, "Order in the court!" after the last murmurs died away he turned toward the defense table, "Major Guggenheim, are you ready to call your next witness."

"Yes sir, we call Lieutenant Colonel Oscar Feldberg."

A few minutes later a mousy looking man with wire rimmed glasses was sworn in and sitting in the witness chair. The Major got up from his seat and stood easily next to the table, "Colonel, what is your current duty assignment?"

"I'm in charge of the intelligence analysis section here at VIII Fighter Command."

"Without getting into anything classified could you clarify that a little more?"

"We try to determine what damage we're actually causing the enemy, what methods and tactics are the most productive."

"And as part of that job you're the group that officially determines a fighter pilot's kills?"

"Yes, we verify the group intelligence officer's assessment of the fighter pilot's combat."

"So you are the final authority on whether a combat resulted in a kill, a 'probable' I believe you call it, or just damage to an enemy aircraft."

"Yes."

"What is your assessment of the 89th Fighter Groups' combat performance since its activation in mid-July?"

"Up until last week we didn't have an assessment, they weren't submitting their intelligence reports."

"Is that unusual?"

He shrugged, "Not really, it usually takes a couple of months for a new group to get settled down and all the administrative stuff straightened out. I was planning on going out there sometime in the near future to go over their procedures and make sure they started submitting their reports."

"But that changed?"

"Last week we got all their back-logged reports."

"So, what did you think?"

"Initially I thought it was preposterous…"

"Why?"

"Because the kill claims were ridiculous!"

"What do you mean?"

"They were much too high."

"What did you do?"

"I had one of my officers start going through their claims to try to figure out what they were doing wrong, he came to me the next day and showed me what he had found out and I had some more of my men start to look at the data and I've been looking at some myself.."

"Why?"

"Because we found that their claim verification standard didn't comply with VIII Fighter Command's standards."

I happened to glance over at Colonel Dodd and saw he was sneering, happy the way the questioning was going.

"What was wrong with it?"

"It was much too stringent."

"It was TOO stringent?" I looked back over at Colonel Dodd and saw his face drop. I knew we had tougher standards before crediting kills than the norm, the Colonel didn't want any questions about our claims when they found out about Buffy and I.

"Yes, they required gun camera footage of the enemy plane exploding, on fire, structural disintegration or the pilot bailing out or they had to have ground confirmation of the wreckage. Of course the later is impossible when the combat takes place over the ocean or the mainland."

"So what did you find when you started to review their claims?"

"Understand this; their numbers were so high that no one believed them. We've been looking at these claims non-stop for the last week."

"You say the claims are too high, what do you mean?"

"The 609th and 612th squadrons have both claimed more kills than any fighter group in the VIII Fighter Command."

"Group?"

"Yes, each squadron has claimed more kills than any other group."

"What about the 611th?"

"They have three times the claims of either the 609th or 612th, they've claimed 213 kills in less than two months!"

"So the 89th as a group has over… 350 kills?"

"Yes, 354 to be exact, you can see why we would be skeptical!"

"So what did you determine in your analysis of their claims?"

"We haven't completed the analysis yet."

"Well, can you comment on what you have found?"

"I haven't got the reports from my men, I know the general trend, but for specifics I can only comment on the two officers whose claims I have been reviewing."

"Okay - and they are?"

"Captains B. Summers and B. Thompson, the CO and XO of the 611th."

There was a rising murmur around the courtroom and the judge's gavel hit with a bang, "Order!"

"And why did you select them?"

"Because they have the highest claims within the 89th, even discounting the kills they had before they were assigned to the 89th."

"Would you please elaborate?"

"Well, let's start with Captain Summers. He has 51 claimed kills, including 12 that were credited prior to joining the 89th. When he was attached to ferry command he shot down an FW-200 while ferrying a P-38 from Halifax and then after he arrived in Scotland he and the other four planes in their ferry group defended the RAF airfield where they were forced to land because they were low on fuel. The field in Scotland was supposed to be closed because of the frequent German bombing raids, the Brits didn't have enough fighters to provide protection for such a low priority field, but they ignored the wave off and landed anyway. The Brits got them refueled and armed and back up in less than fifteen minutes and then they fought off the raid, the airfield suffered no damage. Then a short while later they had to fight off a second raid. During those sorties he claimed an additional eleven kills."

"And were those 12 kills confirmed?"

"Oh yes, there is gun camera footage and eye witness accounts including verification by British ground personnel for the kills defending the air field."

"So Captain Summers was credited with 39 kills while with the 89th, what did your analysis find?"

"Captain Summers should be credited with 63 kills."

Colonel Dodd actually leapt to his feet, "WHAT?"

"Twelve of Captain Summers' fourteen probables have to be credited as kills in any reasonable evaluation."

"You said you were also familiar with Captain Thompson's claims."

"Yes, Captain Thompson has claimed 27 kills."

"And what were the results of your evaluation?"

"Captain Thompson should be credited with 44 kills."

"Can you explain why Captain Thompson's count increased, percentage wise, so much more than Captain Summers?"

"Captain Summers had very few, relatively speaking, probables. Whatever he shot at he usually shot down."

"Thank you, no further questions."

The judge looked over at Colonel Dodd, "Colonel, any questions?"

"No, your honor."

The judge turned back to the witness, "You're dismissed Colonel Feldberg."

He got up from the witness chair and started out, then stopped and turned back to the judge, "Your honor?"

"Yes Colonel?"

"Have Captains Summers and Thompson been lost?"

The judge was startled at the question and thought for a moment, "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that their last claims were a little odd. There was no gun camera footage for Captain Summers claims, only affidavits from other pilots in the 611th, and those reports indicated he was using his plane to destroy the last four enemy aircraft, I don't see how he could have made it back. Captain Thompson's claims were verified by gun camera film but the actual claims were submitted by someone else, the Captain didn't sign the forms."

The judge thought for a moment, "Captain Summers is MIA, Captain Thompson was injured but made it back."

"Thank you, sir. I'll expedite the recommendations then."

Colonel Dodd looked up, "What do you mean you'll expedite the recommendations?"

"Standing orders from the General, sir, any awards for KIA or MIA personnel are to be expedited so that their families can be notified. He feels it may help their families deal with the loss."

Dodd was starting to turn red, "What kind of award could… they possibly be given?"

"Well obviously Captain Summers will be recommended for the Medal of Honor. I imagine Captain Thompson will be also, or possibly a DSC, the General hasn't said exactly what the criteria will be."

Dodd seemed to explode, "Those fucking cunts aren't getting any medals no matter who they lay!"

There was a roar from the audience and then the judge's gavel was slamming his table repeatedly as he screamed "ORDER!"

Suddenly there was silence in the room, the judge looked at the red faced Colonel Dodd, "You, sir, are in contempt! You will be in the brig for the next week on bread and water once this hearing concludes. And if I hear one more inappropriate comment out of you I'll have you up on charges before a general court martial! Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes sir," he answered in a voice barely above a whisper; then he walked slowly back to his seat and sat down.

Colonel Feldberg was looking confused, "Sir, what did he mean?"

Before the judge could answer Colonel Miller spoke up, "Captain B. Summers is Captain Buffy Summers, SHE was a WASP ferry pilot before I got her attached TDY to the 89th, along with Captain Barbara Thompson."

Colonel Feldberg's eyes went wide in surprise; then they settled on me with my leg stuck stiffly out and the flying jacket with Captain's bars. He walked up to me, "You're Captain Thompson?"

I nodded, "Yes sir."

After a moment he stuck out his hand, "It's an honor, ma'am."

I took his hand and shook it, "Thank you sir."

"I only wish I could have had the pleasure of meeting Captain Summers."

"Major Guggenheim, do you have any more witnesses?" I heard the judge ask.

Colonel Feldberg let go of my hand and walked toward the back of the courtroom as the Major stood up, "Just one sir, the defense calls Wing Commander McDonald."

I looked to the back of the courtroom and saw Feldberg had stayed; he was leaning against the back wall next to the door. After a moment the door opened and a British officer came in, he walked to the front of the courtroom, the judge nodded to him, "Wing Commander, you understand that this is a US Military tribunal, you are not required to testify."

"Yes sir, but from Major Guggenheim's request I do not believe there will be any conflict with His Majesty's orders. If I have a problem with a question I will advise you, sir."

The judge nodded, "Sergeant, swear in the witness."

After McDonald was sworn in and had taken his seat Major Guggenheim stood up, "Wing Commander, what are your duties?"

"I am the liaison officer with VIII Fighter Command."

"As such you handle any communications between your government and ours concerning VIII Fighter Command personnel."

"Yes sir."

"Can you tell me if you have received any communications from your government about Captain B. Summers?"

"Yes sir, I have."

"Can you tell us what that communication was about?"

"His Majesty wishes to award Captain Summers the Distinguished Service Order and to appoint him an Officer of the Order of the British Empire, I have notified VIII Fighter Command of the request. The actual request was transmitted to our Embassy in Washington for presentation to President Roosevelt last week, I have not heard of any response at this time."

"Do you know why Captain Summers is to be so honored?"

"I read the citation for the DSO, it appears he lead a flight of four of your P-38s against a German force consisting of at least three squadrons of bombers and a squadron of Me-109s. He destroyed so many of the enemy that they abandoned their attack. An hour later the Captain broke up a second attack similarly."

"Thank you, Wing Commander. That is all I… Oh, I guess I have one more question, is your King going to have a problem when he finds out Captain Summers is a woman?"

The Wing Commander starred at him wide eyed and then tried to speak, he had to swallow several times before he could get any words out, "No sir… the sex of the recipient is not relevant. But when the hell did you people start letting women fly combat?!"

Major Guggenheim smiled at him, "I guess about three months ago, although nobody seems to have known about it."

Major Guggenheim walked back to his table, the judge said, "Colonel Dodd?"

"No your honor," Dodd answered listlessly.

The judge turned to McDonald, "Thank you, Wing Commander; that appears to be all that is needed of you."

The Wing Commander got up and headed for the back of the courtroom, as he passed me someone coming from the other direction brushed against my leg slipping past him, I let out an involuntary gasp and looked up to see Sergeant Halloran, the Colonel's admin sergeant, looking back at me, "Oh, sorry, Captain."

Before he turned back to the table I saw his face split in a grin like a Cheshire cat, then he was leaning between the Colonel and his lawyer whispering urgently but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Suddenly the Colonel snapped his head around looking at the back of the courtroom; he had the oddest expression on his face. A cross between shock and pure pleasure, I looked over my shoulder but could see nothing.

"Major Guggenheim," called out the judge, "I believe you said that was to be your last witness, can we wrap this up?"

He looked up slowly and then stood up, "Your honor, we would like to present one final piece of evidence."

"Evidence?"

"Yes sir."

"You didn't list any evidence."

"I know, it just came to light, it will only take a second, sir."

The judge looked disgusted but nodded, "Go ahead."

The Major nodded to Halloran who ran back down the aisle, avoiding my leg this time. I turned in my seat to watch him as he opened the door and waved his hand, as a small figure stepped into the courtroom Major Guggenheim called out, "May I offer Captain Buffy Summers as evidence in this proceeding."

I struggled to my feet to get a better look at her but couldn't see her; everyone else was out of their seats. The judge was standing up, slamming his gavel on the table and yelling "ORDER!"

I happened to be looking that way when he hit the table with such force that the head of the gavel snapped off and went flying across the room. It hit Colonel Dodd in the side of the head, he collapsed heavily back into his chair and the chair disintegrated under him. As he fell to the floor he managed to smash his face against the table and knock his aide sprawling at the same time; then my view of him was cut off by the milling bodies as they flowed out of their seats.

9


	19. Chapter 19: Savoy

A week later and we still didn't know what was going to happen to us. Officially I was on convalescent leave while my wounds healed and Buffy was on leave to recover from her escape from continental Europe. I'd heard some of the story from her, she'd been pretty banged up bellying in her plane and she'd had to lie low for several days until the search for her had cooled down and her injuries had healed. I knew she healed a lot faster than a normal human, but she'd still been showing some signs of the injuries when she'd reappeared so I figured she must have been really hurt but I didn't know how bad and she wouldn't tell me any more.

We were spending a couple of days at the Savoy in London. Today had been a long day, we had to go to Buckingham Palace for the investiture ceremony where King George VI awarded her the DSO and made her an Officer of the Order of the British Empire. We'd dined with the King and his family in an almost private luncheon, just us and the American ambassador, and the royals. It had been a surreal experience but Buffy had seemed to enjoy herself. We'd managed to get away that afternoon and had spent the time visiting some of the nearby London landmarks before coming back to the hotel and having dinner at the Grill Room. We had enjoyed a wonderful meal despite several interruptions when people wanted to congratulate her, and me sometimes, or to thank us.

The news had hit all the papers but I had no idea how it was being received back in the States. The British public that we met seemed to want to just thank us. Most of the military officers, both British and American, were just sort of at a loss as to how to deal with us. The general consensus seemed to be just to treat us like one of the guys until further notice. Nobody had commented on our bastardized version of a uniform, other than Mrs. Roosevelt's comment that we 'looked sharp, like well dressed officers should' when the three of us had dinner with her and General Arnold the first night of Buffy's reappearance.

We'd decided to stay in tonight, my leg was still bothering me some and I couldn't really dance yet. We'd done a lot of walking during the afternoon, starting from Buckingham Palace, we'd wandered through Westminster Abbey and St. James Park and I had probably walked more than I should have. We had a two room suite, a comfortably furnished sitting room and a private bedroom and bath. We'd intended to just get a room but the manager had recognized us and insisted we have the suite, guests of the hotel. He'd apologized for not being able to provide us a larger suite but they were all occupied.

I was relaxing on the couch, wrapped in a heavy robe, reading the paper. I'd taken a long hot soak in the tub to ease some of soreness from my injured leg. The news wasn't good; the Germans had launched a new offensive and were racing toward Moscow. The only question seemed to be if they would reach it before the winter snows brought them to a halt, the Soviets certainly didn't seem to be able to stop them.

I felt eyes on me and looked up, Buffy was standing in the doorway to the bedroom wrapped in a heavy robe; the twin to the one I had on. She had a towel in her hands and was casually drying her hair as she looked at me. After a few moments she turned and went back into the bedroom and I went back to the paper, wondering a little what was going through her mind.

A while later and I felt the eyes again, I looked up and she was back at the door, watching me as she slowly brushed out her hair, "Buffy, so help me I'm going to put bells on you!"

She seemed to redden a little in embarrassment and disappeared back into the bedroom. I went back to my paper but a few minutes later there was a soft rustle of cloth and I looked up and Buffy was coming from the bedroom, she was still wrapped in the robe but her hair was now pulled back into a pony tail. She came over and sat down cross legged on the floor beside the couch and looked up at me, "How are you doing, Barb?"

"Fine," she looked at me, there was something strange in her eyes; it almost looked like fear, "what's up, Buffy?"

"I think I need to talk… "

"What about?"

"About… me… us…"

"What about us?"

"Promise me you won't freak out, that you'll hear me out?"

"Buffy, I'll always hear you out."

She looked at me intently, staring into my eyes as if searching for… something. I started to look away, it was too intense, but then my resolve came and I looked into her eyes, it was fear I saw buried deep in them. Finally her head gave a little nod, as if she'd come to a decision and she let out her breath in a long slow sigh.

"When I went in I had made it almost to France, I was only a couple of miles from the Ardennes Forest. I had to get away from my plane and I had to get somewhere where I could hold up for a while and let my body recover. I made it into the forest and I found an old hunter's cabin, even found some canned food stashed in it. I held up there for a couple of days until I healed up enough to travel. There wasn't much to do and I spent a lot of time thinking, more than since I got here. You know, Barb, I've just been sort of going with it, riding the flow and not thinking about it a whole lot."

I nodded, wondering what her point was.

"I had a chance to think about what I want, what I want to have when all this is over and I think… no, I know what I want… I'm just not sure if you'll agree."

I looked at her, confused, "Buffy, you have to tell me what it is before I can answer that."

She nodded, "You know I came from a different time. There have been a lot of changes in those sixty years…"

"Yeah, I've gotten that impression."

She nodded, she gazed into my eyes and I could see the fear was there again, "Barb, I love you."

I grinned at her, "Buffy, I love you too, you're the sister I never had…"

She shook her head, "I don't mean that. I thought about this a lot. I thought about my past life and realized that I had blown it big time because I was too scared to talk to the one… the one that meant the most to me. I'm not going to make the same mistake again. I love you… I'm in love with you."

I was shocked, I tried to think but my mind was racing in circles, "Buffy…"

She sat on the floor looking into my eyes, her fear growing and then she pushed it down. I tried to speak again, "Buffy… I don't… What are you saying?"

She looked at me for a long time; then she rose up on her knees until her face was even with mine, she looked into my eyes and smiled, "I'm saying I love you."

I looked back at her, "Buffy… I don't know what to…"

Her hand came up and she gently placed a finger on my lips, "Barb, I love you. I want to stay with you forever, but there's a war on. Besides, the Army would absolutely freak if they found out about this. But I have to say this, I don't know if we'll survive. I don't know what will happen. But for a couple of years at least all of this will have to be put on hold. But I want you to think about it, about us. I'm not a lesbian, I've never made love with a woman, but I want to make love with you. I want us to spend our lives together. But if that's too much for you, if that's not what you want, I'll deal. Just think about it."

I was stunned. I couldn't think my mind was in such a whirl. I'd made love with a man one time, and I hardly remembered it. It was after my parents had died; I'd gone out and tried to drown my pain and somehow I'd ended in bed with a man. But I knew I wasn't a lesbian. I'd never had any thoughts about a woman. Then I looked at Buffy directly in front of me and suddenly I wasn't so sure.

"Buffy…" I shook my head, "Buffy I've never thought about it. Getting married… having kids… that was just something down the road that I never put a whole lot of thought into. But with a woman? That's…"

"Yeah, it can sort of freak you out. When Willow told me about her and Tara I flipped… the shock was too much. But I look at you and I know you are who I want."

I looked into her eyes and slowly shook my head, I saw the sadness and fear suddenly grow; I shook my head harder, "Buffy, I don't know… I've got to think about it…"

"We've got time, you take all the time you need... whatever you decide I'll live with it."

I nodded my head, "Okay, Buffy."

"I have one request."

"What?"

"Can I kiss you? Just once…"

I looked at her, my mind was racing but my body decided for me, my head nodded without my conscious decision. She slowly leaned in, her eyes fixed on mine, and then she was too close and I shut my eyes just as her soft lips touched mine. Her arms went around my back and one of her hands cupped the back of my head and she pulled our bodies together. Her lips were soft and gentle, but they kept playing over mine until my mouth opened and her tongue slipped inside of me.

Her kiss was consuming me, I felt as if electricity was running through my body and I was being drawn to her. Our upper bodies were pressed tightly together and I could feel her firm breasts against mine. I returned the kiss and we seemed to merge together. Vaguely I heard the annoying jangle of the phone in the background but I was too immersed in Buffy to respond. My entire body and mind were drawn to her, she was all there was. I don't know how long the kiss lasted but when our lips parted and she released me I found myself gasping for breath.

She sat back on her heels and looked at me, she was breathing deeply and finally murmured, "If you can never do more, thank you for that."

I nodded my head, stunned and unable to speak. I'd never felt a connection like that with another person, my body tingled all over and I could feel the dampness between my legs. Finally my voice returned, "Jesus, Buffy! What the hell was that? Some Slayer thing you forgot to tell me about?"

She shook her head, "I don't know, I've never felt anything like that before… Well maybe, when Willow and the gang invoked the spell to make me super Slayer to deal with Adam… Maybe there was something like that in the connection I felt with Willow… You don't happen to be a witch?"

"A witch?!"

She grinned at me and shook her head, "No, I can sense magical beings. I don't get anything from you."

"Buffy… I don't know…"

She reached up and softly put her finger on my lips, "Shush, don't say anything now. Just think about it."

I nodded my head; I had a hell of a lot of thinking to do. But until then, I reached out and put my hands on Buffy's shoulders and drew her back against me, our lips met and again I felt the electricity, or whatever it was, flow between us. I felt the steel bands of her arms pull me against her and lost myself in her arms.

A sudden pounding on our room door brought us both back to the present, we separated and Buffy spun around, "What the hell!"

Faintly through the door I heard Franklin's voice, "Captain Summers! Captain Thompson!"

Buffy rose to her feet and headed for the door, her robe flowing behind her. Suddenly I realized that at some point the belt must have come loose. I couldn't see her but I knew she didn't have anything more than panties, if those, on under that robe, "Buffy!"

She looked back at me as she jerked the door open, "What?"

"Your robe!"

She turned back to the now open door where Franklin was standing staring at her open mouthed, I saw her head dip as she looked down her body, then her head came back up and she was looking at Franklin. She drew the robe closed and I saw her tie the belt securely, she was looking at Franklin when he realized he was staring at her. Suddenly he snapped to attention, his face turning bright red, he raised his hand to his forehead in salute and managed to squeak out, "Captain Summers!"

Buffy put her hands on her hips and I suspected she was glaring at him, "Well, I can't very well return your salute, sort of out of uniform, so knock it off. What the hell do you want?"

"Uh… Colonel Miller and General Richardson are in the lobby and need to see you." He looked over Buffy at me, "Uh… both of you."

Buffy stepped back and waved him in, "Don't stand out there. We'll have to get dressed before we can go downstairs."

"Skipper, they wanted to come up here, it's sort of private I guess. I was just supposed to find out if you were here and make sure you were… Uh, ready for visitors."

"Well, I guess you saw how ready we were."

Franklin started to redden again, "Uh, yes Skipper."

Buffy reached up slapped him on the shoulder, "It's not like you haven't seen one before."

Franklin reddened even more but then a gleam came into his eye, "No, Skipper, but not one as beautiful…"

Now Buffy started to redden as she cut him off, "Knock it off! I still outrank you even if I'm not your CO anymore."

"Yes, sir," Franklin responded as he started to look embarrassed again.

"Listen up, Franklin, you are not to confirm or deny any intelligence you may think you have acquired from the peep show you just got."

Now he just looked confused, as was I, "What, sir?"

"About whether or not I'm a natural blonde, that's between me and my hair, understand?"

"Yes sir."

"And knock off the sir stuff, you're in our hotel room and we're half dressed. I think that qualifies as a social occasion, and you know my policy on that."

"Yes sir… Buffy."

"So Colonel Miller and General…"

"Richardson" he supplied, "the CO of VIII Fighter Command."

"Want to see us, about what?"

"I'm not sure, they wouldn't say."

Then I remembered the phone ringing when we were in our kiss, "Was that you trying to call a little while ago?"

"Yes," he nodded in agreement, "They, the Colonel and General, are in the lobby, Harper's checking the bar and restaurant, the desk said you were in."

Buffy thought for a minute, "Well, let's stop with the peep shows. Give them a call and tell them to come on up, we'll be out in about ten minutes. There's a bar over there in that armoire, offer them a drink when they get here."

Buffy headed for the bedroom and I got off the couch and followed her. I shut the bedroom door and turned around to see Buffy drop her robe and lean over her duffle, digging around for some clothes. I saw that Franklin had gotten the full monty; she had nothing on under the robe. As we got dressed we discussed the possible reasons for them coming to see us now, Buffy was pessimistic figuring we were about to get cashiered and sent home. I wasn't so sure; it seemed strange timing if that was what they were planning. If they were going to cashier us I would have thought they would have waited for some of the press attention to die down, trying to send her home in disgrace after the Brits just honored her didn't make much sense to me.

I finished tying my tie and pulled on my dress coat, a male officer's uniform coat that had been tailored to my body. Buffy had insisted we get them made and we had worn them to the investiture earlier that day. Both of our coats were bare except for the military insignia and our pilot's wings, and Buffy's had her ribbon for the DFC she'd gotten at March. She looked over at me, "Well, ready to go face the music?"

I looked at her and shook my head, "Hold on a minute, Buffy."

I went over to her duffle where I'd seen her stash the stuff she'd gotten earlier that day. I found the two boxes and pulled them out, "What are you doing, Barb?"

I straightened up and walked up to her, "If we're going to 'face the music' as you said then we're, you're, going to do it in full uniform."

I opened the first box and saw it was the DSO; the medal was loose in the box but still pinned to the padding was the representational ribbon. No one wore actual medals except for formal dress; instead a small rectangular piece of ribbon, matching the ribbon that came with the medal, was worn. I freed the ribbon and put the box down on the bed. I opened the other box and got the ribbon for the OBE out of it. I looked at the two ribbons and then at Buffy, "Any idea of the order of precedence?"

She shook her head no, "Maybe the OBE?"

I nodded, "We'll go with that."

I slipped my hand under her coat and unpinned the lone ribbon there. I pinned all three ribbons in a single row over her left breast. It took a little fiddling to get them to lay right and the feel of her breast pressing against the back of my hand reminded me of what we had been doing when we had been interrupted. I looked into her eyes after I got the ribbons placed, my hand still resting against her, "Regardless of what happens, Buffy, I love you too. I don't know where that will take me… or us… I have a lot of thinking to do."

She smiled up at me and nodded, "Thinking is good… and so is talking… you'll probably have to work on me some in that department but we should keep talking no matter what happens."

I nodded and took my hand out of her coat, then straightened the lapel and brushed down the material, not that it really needed it but I wanted to run my hands over her. I shook myself and could feel myself start to blush, "Sorry, still sort of dazed… that was one hell of a surprise you dumped on me Buffy."

She grinned at me, "Don't apologize, you can do that anytime… well make that anytime we're alone given the time and place we're at."

I shook my head; then smiled back at her, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Ready?"

She nodded and turned to the door, I followed her back out into the other room. As I came through the door I saw there were now four men standing casually by the open armoire, a fold out shelf converting it into a miniature bar. Harper, Franklin, Colonel Miller and a Major General I'd never met, Richardson I assumed. Buffy and I came up to them and stood at attention, we saluted and Buffy said, "Captains Summers and Thompson, reporting as requested, sir."

The General looked her up and down and then looked at me, then returned his gaze to her. He casually returned her salute, "At ease, Captains. My, you are just a slip of a little girl, aren't you?"

Buffy dropped her hand, "Sir, I'm just the right height for my size!"

Momentary confusion crossed his face, Colonel Miller said softly, "Buffy…"

"What, sir? How come everyone's always commenting on my size?"

I was about to slug her in the shoulder when Colonel Miller shook his head, I lowered my fist and nodded. It was probably better not to use my usual methods of reminding her to keep her mouth under control. Instead I put in, "A lot of fighter pilots are small. I think it may be an advantage, there's not much room to begin with and you also make a smaller target."

The General nodded in agreement, "I've been warned you can be something of a firecracker, Miss Summers."

"Yes sir, although I prefer 'Captain', 'Miss' sounds like I'm being sent to the principal's office."

"Okay, Captain. A drink before we get started?"

"Sir, if it's all the same to you I'd just as soon hear the news now."

"Do you know why we're here?"

Buffy shrugged, "No, but I'm reasonably intelligent despite what they say so I think I can make an educated guess. You're here to tell us what the Army's decided to do with… or to… us."

He nodded, "Let me preface with this, I'm not at all sure I agree with what the Army, or more correctly with what President Roosevelt has decided the Army will do with you two."

I glanced over at Buffy, I saw her expression was grim but she kept quiet. The General went on, "Tomorrow we're going to hold another little ceremony, Major."

Buffy let out a squeak, "What?!"

"You, and Captain Thompson, are being promoted to Major. You will also be getting a Silver Star and a Purple Heart; Major Thompson will be getting a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart with cluster. Your other recommendations are going up the line; I can't approve anything higher here. After the ceremony both of you will be getting on a plane for the States."

"Shit!" Buffy snarled, "I knew we were getting screwed!"

The General looked startled and then grinned slightly, "The Colonel warned me, I just didn't really believe him. You may be getting 'screwed' as you so eloquently put it Major, but I don't think it's quite the way you expect."

"Sir?"

"You're going to have three months, actually a little less. I want you back here and operational by the 1st of January. You are being given command of the 101st Fighter Group, Female, Experimental and Provisional. If you can prove that you and your pilots can handle it then we'll drop the 'Experimental and Provisional'. Things are not going well, the Soviets are on the verge of collapse and if they do we won't have much time before Hitler turns his attention back to us. We're going to need every fighter pilot we can find, you've convinced the President that that should include women."

Buffy looked completely dazed, "Three months? That isn't much time…"

The General nodded, "The only thing that makes it at all possible is that you aren't starting from scratch, the 101st was getting organized; they've got most of the ground crew and equipment and were starting to get their aircraft and pilots. The pilots will be reassigned to other new groups and you'll get your own pilots, you aren't going to have a lot of time but you can pick any female pilots you want as long as they volunteer."

"Why volunteers?" Buffy asked.

He shook his head, "For now, any female pilots going into combat are going to be volunteers."

Colonel Miller spoke up, "Buffy, make sure they really are volunteers. There are lots of people out there that do not want this to work and they'll use any excuse they can to shut you down."

"Fucking male chauvinist pigs!" Buffy muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" The General asked.

Buffy looked up startled, "Sorry, sir, nothing."

He nodded his head, "Major, you're getting up there. You're going to have a hell of a time as it is; you really are going to have to learn to control some of your reactions."

Buffy nodded, "Yes sir, it's just something that I've never been very good at."

"Then learn, it's what's expected of officers. You're expected to learn and mature as you achieve higher rank."

"Yes sir." Buffy turned to me, "Will you volunteer?"

"Yes sir!" I snapped back, "What the hell did you expect?"

"Sir, I'd like to volunteer!" Franklin said.

The General looked at him shocked, Colonel Miller just smiled and said, "I know Buffy would take you but first you can't, you've got balls, and second it's too much to hope that you two would stay out of trouble."

Buffy grinned at him, "I would take you, if I can act like I've got balls then you can act like you don't…" The strangled snort from Harper and the gasp from the General brought Buffy to a stop. Franklin was turning red as she started again, "Well, maybe that didn't coming out quite like I meant it."

7


	20. Chapter 20: Epilogue

Author's Note: When I orignally wrote this story the story ended with the following epilogue. Since then a sequel has been written and I plan to start posting it in a couple of days. Be aware that this epilogue has some spoilers for the sequel so you may not want to read it at this time.

* * *

The whoosh… whoosh of the power door opening and closing brought my eyes up from the screen; I looked across the large room as Buffy stepped through the inner lock door a moment later. She glided across our living room and sat lightly on the couch next to me. I turned and kissed her as she wrapped her arms around me; after we finished with the kiss she pulled back a little and looked into my eyes. I returned her gaze; she was still beautiful even after all these years. The fine lines that covered her skin did nothing to mar the features and her eyes were still bright and clear. Her silver hair framed her fine features, I smiled at her.

"How is the leg, Barb?"

The old war wound had come back to haunt me in my later years, the dull ache almost constant but at times increasing to the point where I could barely walk. It had acted up for the last couple of days but it was settling down now, "It's doing okay today."

She smiled at me, "That's good, better when you're up for some activity."

She started nuzzling my neck and I held her loosely, gazing over her shoulder and out the large picture window that formed most of one wall of our living room. The window looked out over the crater; our home was dug into the wall of the crater fifty feet below the rim. The window was recessed so we never got direct sun through it, now the sun was within a couple of days of setting so black shadows stretched most of the way across the desolate crater but left the far wall brilliantly lit. Even after all these years I found the stark moonscape beautiful to gaze at, but I tore my attention away from it to concentrate on the woman in my arms, my wife for all these years. After a few minutes of enjoying her attention I felt her draw back. I opened my eyes and looked into hers; she smiled and leaned forward until our lips were together. She softly caressed my lips with hers and then her tongue started to demand entrance, I opened my mouth and our kiss deepened.

Eventually Buffy drew back from me and I was looking in her eyes again, "Care to retire to a more comfortable place where we can continue this?"

"I'd love to, but Janet and the kids are coming over, they'll be here soon."

"Shoot!" Buffy stuck her lip out in her trademark pout.

I leaned forward and nipped it gently, "Later, Slayer."

I could see the sadness in her eyes, "How are they dealing?"

Janet was one of our six grand children and the only one on the moon with us. She'd been especially close to her grandfather Ben. I'd left the army after the war; six years had been enough for me. Besides, I'd decided to try Buffy's proposal but any relationship we could have was going to have to be very well hidden, the military may have accepted women but they were a long way from accepting any homosexuality. As the highest ranking female officer in the new US Air Force and the CO of the 22nd Air Force at the end of the war she was often in the limelight.

I married Ben Franklin two years later, after Buffy and I had worked out our relationship and then shocked the hell out of him. Buffy had gotten him assigned as her chief of staff when she was given command of the nascent Air Force Space Command after the war. The two of them had driven it for the next seventeen years until the permanent space station was well established and the first mining center on the moon was up and running and lobbing buckets of moon rock out into space to provide the building materials for the communications and power satellites and eventually the complexes at the Lagrange points.

During her command of Space Command Buffy had taken one year off to complete her MBA and to have Sarah, our other child along with Tommy. No one knew at that time that Ben was also the father of Sarah, she had refused to say who the father was and that secret remained until we finally came out twenty years later. The kids knew, we had told them as soon as they were old enough to understand the secret. But to the outside world Buffy was just our good friend, and as a high powered career woman and a single mom she was extremely fortunate to have us to help take care of her child, or so the outside world thought.

I had been uncomfortable with the solution Buffy had come up with, even after days of discussions with Ben and his enthusiastic endorsement of the plan. How on earth could the three of us form a stable relationship? I loved Buffy, of that I was sure. I liked Ben, but could I stand making love with him? Could I stand him making love with Buffy? I should have known Buffy would not let us have a normal life together. I'd wanted kids and she decided she did to, and rather than have some surreptitious relationships she dragged both of us into her bed, me literally, and the three of us found a way to make it work.

I ended up falling in love with Ben also and once they retired from the military and started Summers Space Industries we stopped trying to hide our relationship. We didn't flaunt it, but when Buffy needed a companion for a public appearance it was me as often as it was Ben and sometimes both of us. She told Barbara Walters in her interview when she retired as CEO of SSI, 'Stuff it, if they don't like my husband or wife then that's their problem.'

After twenty years in hiding we'd had twenty five good years in the open, over fifty years counting the time we'd been together during the war. And then Ben had to go and die on us. The kids had come back, Tommy from L-5 where he now ran SSI and Sarah and her husband up from earth. Janet and four of the other grand kids had also made it, only Frank who was on a deep space mission wasn't there. A lot of great grand kids, too many to count had also been able to come. We'd gotten promises from lots of them to come and spend time with us, I didn't know how many of them would actually make it but they knew they were welcome. It'd been two months now and we had pretty much adjusted to the loss now.

Janet and her wife, Samantha, and their three kids were the only ones who lived on the moon like us. I didn't know if I was completely comfortable with them raising their kids on the moon, we still weren't sure what the long term health effects of growing up in a low-G environment were going to be. But we did know that they were not going to be able to go back to earth unless there was some kind of medical breakthrough, their bodies would not adjust to the high gravity. But then as Janet and Sam often said, who the hell would want to live in that gravity hole?

"I think they're mostly okay. The kids are having the hardest time; I think they're scared of losing us."

"We'll just have to reassure them, we aren't going anywhere anytime soon."

I nodded, another thing we didn't know, how long the human body would last in a low-G environment. Buffy and I were doing fine, my leg acting up was just a pain, and we could easily pass for twenty or thirty years younger than we really were. Ben had been fine also, it had been an undiagnosed brain aneurism that had gotten him. We'd also discussed moving to a zero-G habitat in one of the colonies if physical problems started to arise. But for now I loved where we were, I liked the weight of Buffy on me as we slept together, and she never got too heavy now.

She smiled at me and settled into the couch beside me, "What were you doing?"

"Playing with my new toy, thank-you Buffy, I'm really going to enjoy it."

"You got the link working?"

"Yeah, it wasn't bad, just took coordination from both ends. It will automatically correct any shifting now so the only time we should get an interruption of service is if there's a major shaker." While they generally didn't do much damage, moonquakes were not uncommon.

Buffy had gotten me a new laser communications base station for my birthday and the workers had completed the installation the day before. I had gotten it aligned on the complex at L-5 so we now had our own link to the systanet and were no longer subject to the very limited bandwidth available to private users of the complex link. L-5 was fully integrated so there were no bandwidth problems to anywhere. Now we could access any site on systanet with only the inherent distance delay slowing any response.

I leaned forward and tapped the mouse pad on the lap top and the screen woke back up, showing the picture I'd been looking at when she came in. She looked at it and started, "Where'd you find that old thing?"

I clicked back from the full screen shot of the picture to the article it was embedded in, "It's in this article."

I scrolled up until the top of the page appeared with the title, '101st Fighter Group – The Witches of the West'.

Buffy read it, "Where is that from?"

"It's a knew thing that's been put together over the last couple of years on the net called Wikipedia, sort of an encyclopedia but anybody can add articles to it or add to existing articles."

"What keeps someone from putting junk in it?"

"Oh, there are millions of people looking at everything that gets posted. Put something wrong or a lie out there and it gets commented on pretty quickly."

She nodded in understanding; I scrolled back down to the picture, it was a photograph of her standing in front of a P-38. "Are you going to fix that?"

"What?"

"The caption."

I looked at the caption under the picture, 'Lt. Col. Buffy Summers, first CO of the 101st Fighter Group, Toynton Station, Horncastle, England. January 1943, shortly after the group was activated.'

"What's wrong with it?"

"It wasn't January, it was December 28th, the day we activated, three days early, remember?"

I smiled at her, "Yeah, I remember."

3


End file.
